


rain falling on sunshine

by mochiho (pining)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baekhyun has Anger Issues, Cliche, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Smut, Theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 18:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10859697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pining/pseuds/mochiho
Summary: Where Baekhyun steals Joonmyeon's car, and maybe his heart too.





	rain falling on sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> hello! thank you for clicking on this fic! i worked really hard on it so i hope you enjoy it.  
> and to the prompter, i am so sorry i turned your prompt into this huge mess.
> 
> (prompt #14)

Baekhyun clutches the fabric of his dark coat between his fingers, trying to pull it closer to his shaking body. He’s chilled to the bone, thinning Gudetama themed pajama pants (a gift from Sehun) flapping against the cool wind. _It’s far too cold,_ he thinks to himself as he shivers, flipping the collar of his coat up. He folds his arms tightly against his chest, trying to shield his small frame from the light rain pelting against his cheeks as he makes his way down the damp streets of Seoul.  
  
The clouds are thick in the sky above, and Baekhyun feels the weight of them against his shoulders. He steps out of the rain and takes refuge under a closed shop’s brightly colored awning, pulling his phone out of his pocket and wiping his thumb against the dark screen, clearing off the raindrops that had snuck into the lining of his pocket. When he clicks the home button he struggles to turn the brightness down fast enough, his eyes squinting against the harsh light. There's a unread text sitting on the lock-screen. It’s from Chanyeol. It’s contents are nothing but a frowning emoji.  
  
He unlocks his phone and types out a very long, strongly worded paragraph about “bros” and “hoes” and how one should always come before the other, but his finger hesitates over the small arrow button. He deletes the message before he can send it and replies, instead, with a simple “fuck u  >:(“. He shoves his phone back into his pocket and pulls the collar of his coat towards his face, stepping back into the path of the rain.  
  
They had been rooming together for years in their shitty shoe-box sized apartment, moved right in together after two months of being friends and never looked back. Their house was complete garbage, from the thin, leaking walls to the creaky floorboards but not once had they thought about moving. But right now, Baekhyun is seriously considering it. Over the years of their friendship not once had either of them ever sexiled the other, they had been respectful and only invited over their partners on nights when the other wasn’t home or went to their partner’s place when they were, but here Baekhyun was, freezing out on the streets of Seoul because Chanyeol had stumbled back home from his date with Kyungsoo’s hand clasped in his and Baekhyun had booked it out of there faster than his mouth could drop. (He was fine if the dicking was happening before he got home and he got back in the middle of it, but there’s something about being there when it starts that makes him wary.)  
  
His lips twist in thought as he walks, his feet splashing in the small puddles that have accumulated over the roads. He could probably circle around the block a few times and then head back, or take shelter in the coffee shop a few streets over. He huffs slightly, watching as his breath fogs in front of his face, his fingers curling tightly into his pockets. He turns down the next street, smiling softly at the few people that pass him.  
  
He pulls his hands from his pockets and lets his thumbs loop around the straps of his backpack as he passes more people, their painted fingers wrapped gingerly around the handles of their umbrellas. Each person is dressed more extravagantly than the last, and every click of their heels against the stone has Baekhyun flinching, his eyes downcast, staring at the hole in his pajama pants.   
  
There’s a hotel a few buildings ahead of him and he keeps his head down as he walks quickly past entrance, the sound of Beethoven bleeding out onto the streets. He continues to hum the number under his breath even when it no longer reaches his ears, his fingers tapping against his chest.  
  
As Baekhyun’s own rendition of the song ends he catches something in his peripheral vision, something big, sticking out of an alleyway just a few feet back. It’s a car.  
  
Baekhyun doesn’t know much about cars. Actually he doesn’t know _anything_ about cars, but this one, he _knows_ is nice. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, wetting the dry skin, and steps forward, the bottom of his pajamas sinking into a small puddle. He grimaces, the water soaking all the way through his socks, but doesn’t move his eyes from the poorly concealed vehicle.  
  
Ever since Baekhyun was a child he had been told that he was a bit odd. Small lithe fingers always found themselves wrapped around items that didn’t belong to him, a pencil crayon, a doll, anything that he could reach. He couldn’t help it. His mother would always check his bag the minute he walked in the door, contents being poured over the freshly cleaned floor. His binders would fall to the ground, his own pencil case following, then several items; a pair of headphones, a broken ipod, a ziploc bag filled with pokemon cards. His mother would sigh and pack it all back up, telling him to return it in the morning.  
  
He always did of course, with his head down and both his arms stretched out in front of him, his stomach heavy with guilt. The other kids learned to stay away from him, learned how to keep their stuff hidden, out of the way of Baekhyun’s greedy fingers.  
  
Now, even at the age of twenty-three, Baekhyun still feels that familiar twitch in his index finger, the everlasting boredom looming over his constantly dyed head. He exhales deeply, eyes roaming once more over the desolate street before stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweater and jogging over to the car.  
  
His sneakers squish with every step across the shining concrete, the flickering streetlights reflected in the puddles lining the sidewalks. A few stories up a woman sits on her balcony, calloused and bruised fingers plucking at an aging ukulele. The sound makes it way down to Baekhyun and he grins to himself as he runs his fingers along the exterior of the car.  
  
It’s painted matte black and it’s smooth to the touch. The windows are tinted so darkly that even when he presses his face against the surface he sees nothing but his own reflection staring back at him. He feels his heart climbing up his throat as his hand makes its way to the handle on the door.  
  
“There’s no way it would be unlocked…” Baekhyun mutters to himself. Even in the seclusion of the alley Baekhyun can feel the old woman's eyes on him. He tightens his grip around the handle, his fingers shaking slightly, and slowly pulls it forward. It doesn’t budge. How anti-climatic.  
  
He takes a step back and peers down both ways of the alley. To his right is the street, dimly lit but welcoming, a chance to turn back, as dramatic as that sounds, and to his left is dark, grimy and only lit by a dumpster that’s been set on fire. A cat nestled beside the burning trash hisses at him and he tells it to fuck off.  
  
He shuffles past the car and dumpster, his lunch from earlier almost making its way back up from the smell, and surveys the boxes to his left. He leans backwards as he pops open the first box, his eyes squinted closed. When nothing jumps out Baekhyun deems it safe to approach. He peers into the box and sighs heavily when he isn’t greeted with a decapitated head or dead animal (he’s had some bad experiences). But the box is filled with nothing but broken hangers and baby clothes.  
  
Baekhyun grabs one of the hangers from the top of the box and makes his way back to the car. He unbends it carefully until it’s the length of his arm and makes a small hook on one of the ends. There’s distant voice down the street and Baekhyun freezes, the song from above turns from sweet to haunting as the footsteps become louder and louder. He dives behind the front of his car, the unhooked end of the hanger dragging across the paint and scratching the smooth surface,  
  
“Oh fuck.” He curses, “fuck fuck fuck.”  He glares at the hanger like it was it’s fault.  
  
Baekhyun sticks his head out from the front of the car as the group of people pass by, they’re dressed to the nines. Dark coats and long dresses, hair piled up atop their head with shining clips. The moon reflects off one of them, a large one shaped like a butterfly. So lifelike it takes Baekhyun a moment to realize it isn’t real.  
  
When they've passed completely Baekhyun slips his backpack off his shoulders and pulls it around to his front. Its big, stuffed full of things other people would call useless but Baekhyun finds himself unable to throw any of it away. He unzips the side pocket and shoves his hand down, grinning to himself when his fingers wrap around the item he’s looking for.  
  
A few wrappers fall out when he pulls his hand free and Baekhyun shoves them back in before uncapping his black marker.  
  
“Sorry to whoever owns this car.” He whispers before carefully coloring in the scratch. He clips the marker onto his pajama pants before inspecting his work. Up close it looked bad, it's too dark compared to the rest of the car and from far away it looks bad too, but whoever owns this car probably has a collection of them so Baekhyun doesn't think he'll be too mad when he finds out.  
  
He pulls the bag back over his shoulders and moves around to the side of the car. He carefully slides the hanger in between the small space between the two doors and since the windows are tinted and he can't exactly see where the lock is, he has to stand there for a few minutes shifting it around until it hooks onto it.  
  
Baekhyun exhales deeply, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding and pulls the hanger free. He tosses it to the side and wraps his fingers around the door handle.  
  
“Once around the block.” Baekhyun tells himself and pulls the door open. “Just once and then i’ll bring it back.”  
  
The door opens with ease and Baekhyun slides into the driver’s seat. To his surprise the lights inside the car don't turn on, and he's met with darkness and a blinking green light beside the driving wheel.  
  
“Oh shit,” Baekhyun leans forward, gripping his hands around the wheel. Instead of a regular key lock there's just a button, reading: Press to Start. If it was a normal start car Baekhyun could have easily picked it (he hasn't learned the wire trick yet) but with these new cars you're given a key fob, one that doesn't allow the car to start without it being within a few feet of the vehicle.  
  
Baekhyun shrugs and presses his foot against the gas, knowing it won't start without it being held and presses his thumb against the button. What does he have to lose?  
  
His eyes widen when the car quietly whirs to life, the front headlights lighting up the dingy alley in front of him. Classical music seeps through the car's speakers and as much as Baekhyun enjoys a good symphony he isn't in the mood to go for a joyride with Mozart as his soundtrack.  
  
He reaches towards the glove compartment and pats his hand around in there, face contorting into disgust when his hands lands onto something sticky and a pungent odor makes its way throughout the car.  
  
“Jesus Christ.” Baekhyun coughs, hand covering his nose. He quickly presses the button on the center console to put the windows down. The smell of burning garbage overpowering the moldy mess that Baekhyun can only guess is some kind of bread.  
  
With his nostrils assaulted, Baekhyun just now realizes how messy the car actually is. Receipts and wrappers line the dashboard like a wall, empty water bottles take up the passenger side chair and foot space and he doesn't even try to examine the back seats. It's far too dark and quite frankly, he's afraid of what he might find.  
  
He backs the car up until it's out of the alley and running on the open street, free hand flicking through the radio stations. He settled on a pop station and turns it up until he feels the music vibrating his bones. The car skids across the pavement and Baekhyun screams in delight as it rips down the streets.  
  
The streets are empty at this time of night, a few people cling to each other on the sidewalks but Baekhyun just speeds right past them, his tire colliding with a puddle and sending the water spraying. “Haha..Sorry!” He yells, though he’s long gone before the action processes in his brain. Despite his previous words of only once around the block, he passes the alley three times before he makes a turn down a different street.  
  
“Fuck yeah!” Baekhyun yells, elated. Russian Roulette pounding its way through the car's sound system and bleeding onto streets. One hand sits on the wheel, the other mimics the dance moves he knows by heart. “Growing heart b-b-beat, It’s getting faster, not like you, heart b-b-— what the fuck?”  
  
Baekhyun’s eyes narrow at the mirror outside his window, the all too familiar blur of red and blue flashing just a few feet behind him. Sure he was speeding, but not by much, not a speed that would warrant a pull over. Baekhyun grits his teeth and moves his eyes over to the mirror on ceiling. A gasps falls from his mouth and his feet slam on the breaks, causing him and _the person in the back seat_ to jolt forward.  
  
The man sitting behind him is bent over the center console, one hand gripped around the back of Baekhyun's seat and the other stretched over the leather beside him. It's still too dark but he's closer than before, his blonde hair is pulled up in different directions and there's a glaze over his eyes like he's just woken up.  
  
Baekhyun stares at him and quickly presses the off button on the radio, retracting his hand close to his body like he might rip it off if he lets him get too close.  
  
Something behind the man lights up and Baekhyun's eyes widen. “You called the fucking cops? What the hell?” The man goes to answer, his mouth opens and everything but he’s interrupted by the tap on his window.  
  
Baekhyun jumps at the sound and before he knows it he’s being asked to step out of the vehicle and pressed up against the back of the car. The officer pulls Baekhyun's backpack off his shoulders and unzips it, a few items falling out.  
  
“Hey! Put that stuff back!” Baekhyun yells at him, he squirms against the other officers grip but he doesn't budge. “What the hell are you looking for anyway?”  
  
The officer stands and Baekhyun’s bag falls over into a small puddle. He has to bite back a whimper.  
  
“Where's your I.D?” The officer asks and from where Baekhyun is being held he sees the man from the backseat walk over to Baekhyun’s bag and pick it up off the ground. Baekhyun watches as he puts the things that had fallen out back into the pockets and zip it up, before hoisting it over his back.  
  
He's dressed impeccably. A tailored suit, a nice watch. The only thing out of place is hair and Baekhyun assumes it was gelled down at one point of the night.  
  
“My I.D?” Baekhyun snorts, his attention returning to the officer. “Sweater pocket. Maybe you should've patted me down better.”  
  
The officer snarls slightly and pulls Baekhyun's wallet from his pocket. He flips through it and his eyebrows shoot up. He looks at Baekhyun then back at his drivers license, then back at Baekhyun. He does it a few times until he pulls the flashlight from his waist and shines it rudely onto Baekhyun’s face.  
  
“Byun?” He asks and Baekhyun tries to squint through the light. “Jesus fuck kid, how many times has it been this year.”  
  
Baekhyun grins. “I'm just trying to keep you guys on your toes, wouldn't want you guys to be slacking. I like to see how long it takes, this one’s a record though, seeing as someone—” He glares at the man now falling asleep propped up against a streetlight, “tipped you fuckers off.”  
  
“Watch your mouth.” The other officer spits and his knees collides roughly with Baekhyun’s leg. The rich man’s eyes shoot open at Baekhyun’s pathetic attempt to keep his wince at bay.  
  
“Let's go Byun, lucky for you your usual cell is empty tonight.”  
  
“Ah, home sweet home.”

 

*****

 

Joonmyeon’s had only ever been to the police station once. He was younger at the time, much younger, but he still remembers the iron grip of his father’s hand around his wrist and the flash of cameras blinding him as he was guided back to the car.  
  
He shifts in the uncomfortable seat in the waiting room, the boy’s backpack sitting on his lap. It's been a few hours since he got here, following behind the police car, his fingers shaking against the wheel. As soon as they had brought the boy, he thinks he remembers the officer calling him Byun, down to the holding cells he had posted the bail for him and requested to drop the charges his father had wanted him to press.  
  
He underestimated how quickly that could be done.  
  
There's a large buzz down the hallway and Joonmyeon jumps out of his seat, securing the bag onto his shoulders. He shifts on his feet as Byun is being escorted out and Joonmyeon is shocked at how much different he looks under the bright lights.  
  
There's a desperate cling to youth in the pastel pink of his hair and the smooth curve of his smirk but there's something hard behind his eyes, something that ages him.  
  
“Fucking, _Jesus_ —  let go of me.” He twists himself out of the officer's grip and trips on his own untied shoelace. Joonmyeon reaches forward and catches him before he can hit the ground.  
  
“You're not Chanyeol.” He says to him and Joonmyeon shakes his head.  
  
“Uh no, sorry to disappoint.” He offers Byun back his bag and his eyes light up like a child on Christmas. Joonmyeon has to look away. “I didn't go through it or anything if you're wondering.”  
  
“Nah, I wasn't. Thank you though.” He grins at him and pulls it over his shoulders. Lightning cracks outside the building and the lights flicker. Joonmyeon watches as Byun tilts his head to the side to look out the window and how his face falls when he realizes how heavy the rain is coming down.  
  
“Come on, I’ll drive you home.” Joonmyeon jerks his head towards the front door and Byun pulls his back by his shoulder. “It’s the least I can do.”  
  
“The least you could do? I stole your car, I should be offering you something.”  
  
Joonmyeon laughs. “You did, but _I_ called the police, I don't mind, honestly. I just really want to get out of here.”  
  
Byun seems to consider it for a moment and Joonmyeon waits, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants until he nods his head.  
  
“Okay, sure. Can we stop somewhere to eat though?” Byun asks as he bends down in front of him, “I know a place around here and I’m starving.”  
  
He wraps his fingers around the frayed edges of his laces and tucks them back into his sneakers. Then proceeds to wring out the bottom of his pants until there's small puddle at his feet. “I’ll pay.” He tells Joonmyeon before wrapping his arm around his shoulder and pulling him out into the storm.

 

*****

 

The car ride is quiet despite the soft music crooning through the speakers, and Joonmyeon still feels the heat of embarrassment on his cheeks from when Byun had to spend a few minutes throwing the empty water bottles into the back.  
  
“You should really clean this thing up.” He tells him after peeling a piece of gum off the bottom of his shoe.  
  
Joonmyeon huffs, his lips pouting slightly. “It's my car, don't tell me what to do.”  
  
Beside him Byun stares at him quizzically, a slight chuckle falling from his lips and Joonmyeon’s hands tighten around the wheel.

 

*****

 

Byun directs him to pull over a few minutes later and Joonmyeon raises an eyebrow at him, eyes searching the sidewalk for the restaurant he was talking about but he's met with nothing but black windows and chained up doors.  
  
“Come on,” He prompts, “It's right here.” Byun points to one of the stores in the plaza but Joonmyeon still see nothing through the rain. A beep sounds through the car as Byun opens his door and Joonmyeon shivers against the wind. He slides out of the car behind Byun and clicks the lock button on his fob before tucking it away in his pocket. The rain still tears down heavily and he's soaked to the bone before he gets over to where the boy is standing.  
  
“There's no places open here.” Joonmyeon tells him and Byun snorts.  
  
“Thanks genius, I know.” He pulls his bag around to his front and pulls a set of keys out of the side pocket. Joonmyeon lets out a sigh of relief at the sight of them. “What was the for?” He asks and Joonmyeon shakes his head. “Did you think I was gonna break in or something?”  
  
“Uh.” Joonmyeon replies intelligently, “Well I mean you, did just steal my car.”  
  
“Okay true.”  
  
The door groans loudly as Byun pulls it open and Joonmyeon waits patiently as he struggles to move the metal guard behind it. He's just about to offer his help when he pulls it to the side and wraps his hand around Joonmyeon elbow to yank him into the cafe.  
  
He watches as Byun makes his way through the small shop, flicking on switches as he goes. The luminescent lights buzz to life just as Byun returns with a few tea towels.  
  
He offers one to Joonmyeon. “Here, sorry, the rain probably ruined your suit.”  
  
Joonmyeon takes it and begins patting down the fabric. “It's okay I didn't really like this one anyway.” There's a smile in his voice as he talks and it shocks him, he can't remember the last time he smiled while talking, as sad it sounds, to anyone but Kyungsoo.  
  
“Do you want some coffee? tea?” Baekhyun gestures towards the station to their right and Joonmyeon nods.  
  
“Coffee.”  
  
He saunters off and Joonmyeon peels the soaking jacket off his shoulders and sets it out across one of the booths. His hands fly to his belt next and he almost undoes it before he remembers where he is.  
  
“Here.” Byun says, holding out the cup and Joonmyeon sighs at the warmth of it, not having realized how cold he was.  
  
Byun plops himself down onto the floor in front of the counter and Joonmyeon eyes one of the booths before sitting down next to him. His pink hair is darker from the rain and it stands out heavily next to the white towel wrapped around his neck.  
  
“What's your name?” Joonmyeon asks when the rain pelting against the windows get too deafening.  
  
“Baekhyun.” Byun Baekhyun. A nice name. Joonmyeon thinks it would sound nice coming out of his mouth but he doesn't try it, instead just takes a sip of his drink. Baekhyun rolls his head to the side and props his head onto his hand.  
  
“What's yours?” He asks next, and Joonmyeon swallows hard under his gaze.  
  
“Kim Joonmyeon.”  
  
“That sounds familiar, are you the son of someone?” Baekhyun’s eyes narrow and then fall to Joonmyeon’s chest, like it might be written on tag reading: Hi, I’m the son of: Insert Name Here. He then pushes himself off the ground and walks behind the counter. Joonmyeon attempts to crane his neck to see what all the clinking is but the counters are too tall. Behind him Baekhyun asks again, “So.. the son of someone?”  
  
Joonmyeon laughs, “Like most people are.  
  
Baekhyun's face pops up over the counter, his features scrunched up and his tongue peeking out from between his pink lips. “You know what I mean.” He tells him before turning back around.  
  
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Joonmyeon’s voice is quiet, it almost gets lost in the storm but he assumes Baekhyun’s heard him by the humming noise he makes in reply. There’s a sound of running water and then Baekhyun’s back on the ground beside him, two cups of instant ramyeon in his hands.  
  
Joonmyeon turns towards him, one leg crossing under the other. “What do you do Byun Baekhyun? other than work here of course.” Joonmyeon takes the cup that’s offered to him and places it on the ground beside his coffee.  
  
Baekhyun hums, his lips twisted to the side in thought as he pulls his knees closer to his body. His once, what Joonmyeon would guess was, a bright yellow bag sits at his feet, water stained and seemingly fall apart.  
  
The rain gushes down harder and Joonmyeon becomes entranced by the pattern it leaves on the windows.  
  
“I do lots of things.” Baekhyun finally answers. “I do work here, sometimes, usually. Other times I work at a flower shop near my apartment, that’s only every other weekend though. But right now..” Baekhyun straightens his legs and plops his bag onto his lap. He unzips the main pocket and shoves his hand down deep into the mess.  
  
A wrapper for a Rilakkuma ice-cream bar falls to ground by Joonmyeon’s foot and he picks it up, confused. “Right now…” Baekhyun continues, his face almost between the two zipper folds, his tongue stuck out between his lips. “Aha!” Baekhyun yells out in victory, a small card between his fingers. “Right now, I work at the...” He flips the card over, almost as if he doesn’t know the name. “Ascent Lounge.”  
  
Joonmyeon’s mouth falls open slightly at the name and Baekhyun raises an eyebrow at him. “Do you know it?”  
  
Joonmyeon cough into his hand, nodding slightly. “Yeah I know it.”  
  
“Why are you acting so weird?”  
  
Joonmyeon shrugs. “My friend’s family owns that lounge— or more specially my friend does.”  
  
Baekhyun scoots forward across the linoleum floor, a grin plastered across his face. He leans forward, both his hands resting on Joonmyeon’s arm. “You know Kyungsoo? He’s your friend?”  
  
Joonmyeon’s head cocks to the side bewildered. “Yeah, we live across the hall from each other, we’ve been friends for years. How do you know him? Does he drop by the lounge often?”  
  
Baekhyun laughs and lights up his whole face. “Oh no, he doesn’t really hang around but he’s dating my roommate Chanyeol! They met when Chanyeol came by to pick me up— I ended up walking home anyway but yeah, Kyungsoo and me are pals.”  
  
“What a small world…” Joonmyeon mutters and Baekhyun agrees.

 

*****

 

Joonmyeon wakes up to the sound of his front door slamming closed. He groans loudly and tries to pull his covers back over his head but finds his hands empty. A sudden chill climbs over his skin and he realizes that he never made it to his room last night, opting to crash on the closest couch instead.  
  
“Rough night?” Joonmyeon cracks one of his eyes open to see Kyungsoo standing over him, clad in the grey pajamas that he had gotten for him two Christmases ago. He leans over and picks Joonmyeon’s legs up from the end of the couch and throws them onto the ground, and plops himself down into the empty space.  
  
Joonmyeon couldn’t exactly remember when he met Kyungsoo, it was some time between his last horseback riding lesson and his first dance class but he fit so well into the mold of his life he never stuck out enough for Joonmyeon to separate his memories to before and after Kyungsoo. He just assumes he’s apart of all of them.  
  
They stayed together throughout all of their schooling and even roomed together during University, opting out of an apartment first year to live in the dorms like normal 18 years old would.  
  
“Not exactly.” Joonmyeon answers, stretching his arms over his head.  
  
Kyungsoo hums in reply, “What were you doing with Baekhyun last night?”  
  
Joonmyeon’s eyes widen and he sits up, head spinning at the pace of it. Kyungsoo stares at him over the top of the newspaper and Joonmyeon’s mouth falls open. “It’s not.” Kyungsoo stares at him some more. “It’s not.” Joonmyeon repeats. Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything. Joonmyeon grabs the paper out of his hands and tears through the pages, looking for any mention of his name.  
  
“It’s not.” Kyungsoo says finally, after Joonmyeon has the paper in shreds on his lap. “But it’s all over twitter.”  
  
Joonmyeon groans into his hands. “Is that how you found out?”  
  
Kyungsoo scoots forward until he’s basically in Joonmyeon’s lap and taps his finger against his temple. “You’re one of the smartest people I know ‘Myeon and you’re asking me that?” Joonmyeon blinks at him. “Baekhyun came home last night and I was still there, at his apartment, with Chanyeol.”  
  
“Oh right.” Joonmyeon blushes slightly and tries to sink into the leather cushions. “Did he say anything about me?” He reaches forward and grabs one of the two glasses of water Kyungsoo put on the coffee table.  
  
“I don’t remember, he kind of walked into Chanyeol’s bedroom when I was sucking his dick.” Joonmyeon chokes on the water in his mouth and it sprays onto Kyungsoo’s lap. The younger man just frowns slightly and shimmies until he can pull them off his legs, leaving him in a pair of boxers.  
  
“Did you continue sucking his dick while Baekhyun was in there?” Joonmyeon asks, using Kyungsoo’s pants to wipe the water off the cushions and his chin.  
  
Kyungsoo just shrugs, “Yeah, why not. It wasn’t my dick he was seeing and Chanyeol wanted to know what happened anyway.”  
  
Joonmyeon shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”

 

*****

 

“How was it anyway?” Kyungsoo asks a few minutes later when they’re standing in the kitchen, he’s sat on top of one of the counters, a borrowed pair of Joonmyeon’s pajamas on his legs. Joonmyeon pulls the fridge door open, examines the contents and closes it, huffing slightly.  
  
“How was what?” He asks, pulling open one of the pantry doors.  
  
“How was Baekhyun? Did you like him?” Kyungsoo opens one of the bottom cabinets and throws him the bag of white rice he was looking for. “Also why did you look in the fridge?”  
  
Joonmyeon unclips the bag and plugs in his rice cooker. “Why are you asking me that? It was fine, it was nice — he was nice.” He jumps up onto the counter opposite of Kyungsoo, pulling one of his legs close to his body. “You’re not trying to set me up again are you?”  
  
Joonmyeon pours the rice into his measuring cup and runs it under the water before dumping into the cooker.  
  
Kyungsoo smiles. “No I’m not, I trust you to make your own decisions romantically.” He sighs, “I’m just asking because you never really talk to people who aren’t friends of your family. You need to get out more, you’re going to go crazy if you have to go to one more charity ball — or at least, I know _I_ am.”  
  
“What was it like, getting to know Chanyeol?” Joonmyeon asks, attempting to change the subject. “How did you know you wanted to be with him?”  
  
Kyungsoo thrums his fingers against his thigh, his front teeth gnawing on the skin of his lip. “I didn’t expect him, I wasn’t actively looking for anyone but he kind of just burst into my life and stayed there.” He picks at a scab just above his knee. “I was selfish and cold before him, you know that, but he— God, this is— he just makes me _feel_ so much.” There’s a blush high on the curve of his cheekbone and Joonmyeon smiles. “I can’t really imagine being without him.”  
  
Joonmyeon tosses an empty water bottle off the counter at him, it lands right on his forehead. “That’s pretty gay. I’m proud of you.”  
  
“Are you gonna see him again?” Kyungsoo asks, beaming.  
  
Joonmyeon picks at a loose thread on his jeans, eyes squinting against the sun shining through the blinds drawn tight against the windows. They refract into lines across the marble counters, right across his legs, and he traces his fingers through the shadows between them.  “I don’t know, I don’t have his number, I don’t even remember his address.”  
  
“Why do you keep forgetting that I’m dating his roommate? I’ll just ask Chanyeol for his number.” Kyungsoo shifts on the counter and pulls his phone out of his back pocket. Joonmyeon leaps off the counter and grabs it out of his hands before he can unlock it. “No. Don’t do that.”  
  
“Why not?” He asks, taking his phone back from Joonmyeon’s grip.  
  
“That’d be weird— wouldn’t it? He didn’t give me his number, I don’t want to just get it from his friend, I’ll get it myself.”  
  
Kyungsoo stares at him for a moment before slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Okay, and how do you plan to do that?”  
  
The cooker beeps beside him and Joonmyeon turns away from Kyungsoo, hopping back up onto the counter to pull two bowls from the cupboard. Kyungsoo slides down and grabs the bowl Joonmyeon got from from his hands.  
  
“I don’t know...I know where he works sometimes— wait! He works at your lounge, when is he scheduled to work next?” Joonmyeon’s grin is manic and Kyungsoo flicks him in the forehead. “I just own the place ‘Myeon, I don’t make the schedules.”  
  
He shoves a spoonful of rice into his mouth and taps his spoon against his forehead, right where Kyungsoo’s fingers just were. “Well we can just go there, there’s probably a schedule in the manager’s office.”  
  
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, his spoon hanging out of his mouth. “Why don’t I just call instead? because I know you'd be humming the mission impossible theme behind me as I walked through the place.”

 

*****

 

A droplet of rain hits Joonmyeon on the nose just as he's closing his apartment building’s door. He groans, a small pout on his lips and pulls his emergency umbrella out of his bag. The gentle drops turn harsh just as it pops open and Joonmyeon swears under his breath.  
  
“Are you kidding me?” He frowns and pulls his phone out of his back pocket. His thumb hovers over the number 1 for a moment before he shakes his head and presses number 3.  
  
“Hi Minho— yeah I’m good, Look I know you're working for my father tonight— oh okay! Yeah, I'm at the condo, Thank you!” He clicks the end button and shoves it back into his bag. A gush of wind blows past and Joonmyeon has to wrap both his hands around the handle of his umbrella to keep it from flying away.  
  
The streetlights of the intersection just a few feet away are reflected in the puddles gathering on the sidewalk and Joonmyeon shivers as a few rain drops slide down the back of his neck. He turns his wrist over and purses his lips at the time, Baekhyun’s shift started 13 minutes ago.  
  
He considers walking again, but by the time he got there Baekhyun was sure to be gone. Fuck Kyungsoo and his inability to buy lounges closer to Joonmyeon’s condo. He huffs and kicks at a puddle at his feet. The water ripples harshly and watches it until it stills, a small smile pulling on his lips as he watches a familiar car pull up through the reflection.  
  
“Minho!” Joonmyeon calls and the driver waves at him through the slightly tinted windows. The car rolls to a stop and Minho closes his door with a quiet thud before walking around the front of the car to open the door on side. Joonmyeon shakes his head  
  
“You don't have to do that, I’m fully capable of opening a door by myself.” He pats Minho on the shoulder and thanks him anyway before bypassing the arm guiding him into the back seat and climbing into the passenger seat.  
  
“I don't think your father would approve of you sitting up here.” Minho tells him once he’s back in his seat. His dark hair sticks to his forehead underneath his hat and Joonmyeon leans back, grabbing one of the towels he knows is hanging on the back of the chair, and offers it to him.

Minho shakes his head and Joonmyeon rolls his eyes, patting down his arms and legs. Baekhyun had already seen him in pretty bad shape, hair matted and dark circles under his eyes so he wasn't entirely worried about his appearance, but there was still apart of him that wanted to impress him even though he doubted Baekhyun would even bat an eye and anything Joonmyeon wore. He settled for something somewhat casual, a pair of dark dress pants and a nice, loose button-down shirt.  
  
His eyes glance down at the digital clock and he stiffens in his seat.  
  
“Where are we headed by the way, Mr.Kim?” Minho asks at their first red light. Joonmyeon visibly cringes at the title.  
  
“We’re basically the same age Minho, don't call me that, and the Ascent Lounge.” He pulls his legs onto the seat, his arms wrapping themselves around his shins. “Also, I hope my father wasn't too upset with you leaving early, I know how he gets.”  
  
Minho coughs suddenly, a slight blush burning on his cheekbones. “I don't think he minded at all sir,” Joonmyeon’s nose scrunches up at that, “He was, um, a bit preoccupied.”  
  
“Ahh..” Joonmyeon replies, “Well I won't bother you with waiting until I’m done, I’ll call an uber, my father will most likely be done by then.” He glances down at his watch.  
  
“Not to be rude sir, but why didn't you just drive yourself?”  
  
Joonmyeon runs his thumb along the pattern of his shoes, a few flowers stitched into the leather. “Seohyun wanted to borrow my car since she crashed hers, so I let her. I forgot that I was going out tonight.”

 

*****

 

Joonmyeon hadn’t forgotten that he was going out that night. It was the only thing he could think about the whole time while he was cooped up inside his condo, the only social interactions he had being Kyungsoo occasionally, and Siri. His father had also called to berate him for not attending the party but it didn't really count. Joonmyeon liked to think social interactions were pleasurable.  
  
It was three o’clock on Sunday morning when Seohyun, Kyungsoo’s sister, had let herself into Joonmyeon’s home. He didn't know about it though, not until he stumbled into the kitchen a few hours later to find her passed out on the couch, dark hair matted and red lipstick smeared across her face and neck.  
  
Ever since they were kids she would always attempt to braid her long hairs with Joonmyeon's short ones, it never worked but it didn't stop her from pressing wet kisses to both his cheeks and squealing about what a cute couple they'd be once they were older.  
  
“Aish..” he muttered under his breath, his socked toe poking at her sleeping form. “Wake up.” She didn’t budge. “Seohyun wake up!” He wrapped his hand around her stomach and rolled her off the couch, her eyes opening just as she landed with a thump on the floor.  
  
“Znnff..What the fuck Junmyeon?” Her hand rubbed across her face, spreading her makeup down both her cheeks. “Why'd you wake me up?”  
  
“Why are you here in the first place?” He turned around and grabbed one of her shoes hanging off the chair beside him. “I don't remember giving you the passkey.”  
  
“There was a party a few streets over and I didn't want to walk all the way home.” She pushed past him, grabbing her shoe out of his hand and made her way into the kitchen. “And you did by the way. A couple months ago, you were tired of having to wake up at 2 am every day to let me in.” She pulled a water bottle out of the fridge and Joonmyeon grabbed it out of her hands before she could drink it.  
  
“Go, Seohyun, I’m not here to take care of you, go bother your brother— He lives right across the hall.” Joonmyeon placed the water back in the fridge and rested his forehead against the tallest shelf. “You need to get your life together.”  
  
She snorts. “I’ll get my life together when you propose, or when your father makes you. Whatever comes first. Also I need your car, I’m going out tonight.” She kicked the fridge door closed and Joonmyeon didn’t make any move to get out of its way. Maybe if he was lucky it would kill him.

 

*****

 

The Ascent Lounge wasn’t exactly exclusive. It wasn’t VIP only, there wasn’t a list. But some people did have priority over others, and Kyungsoo valued the privacy of his customers more than anything else.  
  
He had bought it right out of University, a challenge to his father who said he would never be able live without the crutch of his family’s name. To some people the lounge was just a place where high class people meet to discuss business and enjoy live entertainment, but to Joonmyeon it was his best friend's first chance at his own wealth, something the both of them strive towards. (Joonmyeon was of course lacking, but it didn’t stop him from being proud.)  
  
There’s a line up down the left side of the building, the curtains drawn shut across all the windows, but it doesn’t stop the paparazzi from snapping pictures of anyone who enters. Joonmyeon rolls his eyes, a bit of his earlier lunch coming up at the sight of them. He knows it's how these people make their living but he can’t condone the fact that they’re ruining other people’s lives for nothing more than a quick buck.  
  
Joonmyeon pulls one of his masks out of his bag and wraps it around both his ears, tipping his hat over his face and waving goodbye to Minho as he drives away. A few cameras flash in his direction and he quickly slips by, smiling behind his mask at the security guard who opens the door for him.  
  
It shuts behind him quietly and every sound from the cameras flashing and the cars honking drowns away into the soothing sound of a piano composition playing through the speakers.  
  
Joonmyeon slips his mask of his face and places it and his hat back into his bag. There’s a woman standing to the right of the door with bright eyes and even brighter smile who takes it for him.  
  
His shoes click against the floors as he makes it through the lounge, and he realizes, just then that he never asked Kyungsoo what position Baekhyun held here. He slips into one of the booths to the side of the stage, the low lighting of the place causing him to squint at every server that comes close to him, no mop of pink hair in sight.  
  
Someone laughs a few tables over and it’s so completely out of place Joonmyeon can’t help but look over.  
  
The person, a boy, isn’t in a booth like most of the patrons here, instead opting to sit at one of the tables, vulnerable to everyone’s gaze. His hair is dark black and his bangs curl over his left eyebrow. His whole body shakes with the force of his laugh and Joonmyeon watches as he leans forward, almost into a bow, to grab hold of the boy sitting next to him. Said boy catches Joonmyeon’s eye just as the laughing one begins to catch his breath and he quickly turns back to his booth.  
  
A server comes by and Joonmyeon orders a bottle of wine, he doesn’t specify a brand or year just tells her to surprise him, and It’s not until she comes back and is reading him the label when the music playing through the lounge fades and the echo of footsteps takes it place. For a moment Joonmyeon looks over at the table where the boy was laughing and sees the same boy pointing at the stage, a childlike grin taking up half his face.  
  
Joonmyeon takes a sip of his wine just as he turns his head towards where he's pointing and he gasps, the wine shooting up his nose and making him cough embarrassingly loud. A few people look over and sinks into the cushions, his face almost as red as the wine.  
  
Baekhyun stands on the stage only a few feet away from him, looking like a whole different person. His hair is washed and parted, combed neatly into place, and instead of ripped cartoon themed pajamas he's wearing a nicely tailored plaid brown suit. If it wasn't for the soft pink of his hair Joonmyeon wouldn't of recognized him.  
  
There's a small smile on his lips as he takes his seat on the stool behind the mic, his eyes don't meet Joonmyeon’s but he knows he trying to hold back his laughter at his misfortune.  
  
“Sorry for the delay everyone,” Baekhyun speaks into the microphone, “There were some uhm.. technical difficulties.” His eyes glance through the crowd, a hand coming up to loosen the brown tie around his neck. There’s a flutter of movement behind the stage and Joonmyeon’s eyes are drawn towards it, and he notices Baekhyun looks back as well.  
  
The beginning of a soft song plays from the band behind Baekhyun and a girl, maybe a bit younger than Joonmyeon himself, hurries to the stool beside Baekhyun. Her dark hair is tucked behind her ears and Joonmyeon can see the reminisce of tears staining her cheeks. He looks back for a moment at the loud boy, wondering if he’s here for her but when he looks back his hands are resting on both of his palms and he follows his gaze to Baekhyun. Joonmyeon takes a sip of his wine.  
  
Then of course, almost promptly spits it out again as Baekhyun begins to sing. Baekhyun’s eyes flit through the room again, a grin gracing his lips as he see’s the laughing boy. Joonmyeon’s hand tightens around his glass and he keeps his eyes on the dark wood of the table, fingers tapping against his cheek.  
  
The girl sings next, like most duets, and Joonmyeon looks up then, only to find Baekhyun staring back at him, an unreadable expression on his face. She sings through her verse and the first half of the chorus and Baekhyun still doesn’t look away. It’s not until Joonmyeon see’s her foot tap against the side of his leg that he blinks and turns back to her.  
  
Joonmyeon sits there for what feels like hours as Baekhyun and the girl go through song after song. The people seated around don’t pay much attention to them, treating them more like background noise than anything else but Joonmyeon doesn’t look away.  
  
The girl leaves the stage some time after but Baekhyun stays where he is. He hasn’t looked back in Joonmyeon’s direction since the first song.  
  
The lyrics of the next song tell the story about a man loving a heartbroken girl and even though she's still in love with the other man, he stays with her, because being by her side is enough. Its unfamiliar to Joonmyeon and he wonders if he wrote it himself. Baekhyun isn’t sitting for this song like he did for all the others, instead he’s walking through around the tables, a charming smile on his face as he serenades men and women alike.  
  
When he gets to the laughing boy’s table he slides himself down onto the lap of the boy who was staring at Joonmyeon earlier. From where he’s sitting he can see his hair is almost as blonde as Joonmyeon’s own but the roots are growing in dark, it should look bad, but for some reason it doesn’t. The black haired boy sitting beside him and the other boy sitting to the other side cling to each other as they laugh. Baekhyun grins at the both of them and Joonmyeon finds himself quietly laughing as well as he presses his forehead against the boy’s.  
  
He slips off his lap and ruffles the boy’s light hair, making his way back to the stage. When he gets to Joonmyeon’s table he sits himself down on the side of it, legs crossed. His head rolls to the side and he sings, “I’ll take you home, just lean on me,” staring right into Joonmyeon’s eyes. He winks at him before he hops back down to the ground, the music fading.  
  
He watches as Baekhyun slips behind the stage and Joonmyeon feels something in the pit of his stomach, weighing him now.  
  
There’s a tap on his shoulder and he turns, surprised to see the laughing boy from earlier standing over him. He’s dressed in a loose polka-dotted button up and a pair of black dress pants, his hair was gelled up at some point during the night but by the way he subtly wipes his fingers on Joonmyeon’s shoulder, he’s combed it all out by now.  
  
“So..” He starts, sliding into the booth opposite of Joonmyeon, “My friend Sehun said you’ve been looking over at our table all night and I just wanted to say, personally, that I’m flattered but I have a boyfriend and so does he.” He reaches for the bottle of wine to Joonmyeon’s left and reads over the label, Joonmyeon just stares.  
  
“Oh, I wasn’t looking over because I was interested in either of you.” Joonmyeon tells him, and his mouth falls open with a slight pop. “That sounded rude, but I mean… I was just looking at first because you were being really loud.”  
  
The boy grins, “Oh phew, okay, I didn’t really want to tell my boyfriend some guy was checking me out all night. He get’s kinda possessive. Not in the bad way though, in the good way— well, there isn't’ really a good way to be possessive but I just like it because I get some pretty great sex out of it.”  
  
Joonmyeon’s eyes fall closed and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Thank you for that.”  
  
“Chanyeol?” Joonmyeon looks up and Baekhyun’s standing at the edge of his table, looking more familiar than he did a few minutes ago. He’s not dressed as casually as he was the first time they met but there’s something about the smear of makeup on his cheek and the socks-and-sandals combo he has on that makes him feel more at ease. Baekhyun wraps his hands around Chanyeol’s elbow and forcefully yanks him from his seat. “What are you doing?”  
  
Chanyeol pats Baekhyun’s head when he’s standing and Joonmyeon’s eyebrows raise at how tall the boy actually is. “I was just talking to my new friend…” He looks over at Joonmyeon. “What's your name?”  
  
He goes to answer but Baekhyun beats him to it. “This is Joonmyeon, from the other day.”  
  
Chanyeol’s eyes almost bug out of his head and Joonmyeon has to stifle his laugh. “This is Joonmyeon? This is Kyungsoo’s friend Joonmyeon? I knew you looked familiar! I’ve seen your picture online tons of times, you’re pretty famous for not doing much.”  
  
Baekhyun flicks him on the arm and Joonmyeon smiles, “Ah, yeah I’m Kyungsoo’s friend, and _you're_ his boyfriend, right?”  
  
Chanyeol grins and makes a move to sit back down but Baekhyun pulls his back by his belt loops. “I am! He talks about me? That’s so cute, I’m gonna text him right now and tell him how cute he is.” He pulls his phone out from his back pocket and waves to Joonmyeon and Baekhyun as he makes his way back to his original table.  
  
“Sorry about him.” Baekhyun tells Joonmyeon, taking Chanyeol’s place across from him. “So… What exactly are you doing here Kim Joonmyeon?” He rests his chin on the edge of his palm, his thin _(beautiful)_  fingers tapping against his cheek.  
  
“I came here for you,” He smiles and Baekhyun grins back, his pinky finger now resting on the side of his lips. “Your number actually, I didn’t realize until I got home that I never asked you for it.”  
  
“You came all the way down here just for my number?” He asks, completely bewildered. “Why didn’t you ask Kyungsoo for it, I think I gave it to him. Or he could've just gotten it from Chanyeol.”  
  
Joonmyeon shrugs and grabs the bottle of wine, pouring himself another glass. “I thought that would be rude, and a little creepy.”  
  
Baekhyun laughs and Joonmyeon doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of that sound. “You’re right, that is a bit creepy. Here i’ll put it in your phone right now.” He places his hand down on the table, palm up and Joonmyeon quickly pulls his phone from his back pocket. He unlocks it and opens up the contact page for Baekhyun to put his information in.  
  
Something catches Joonmyeon’s sight in the corner of his eye and he looks down beside Baekhyun’s feet to see the yellow backpack from the first time they met. He stretches under the table and wraps his index finger around one of the straps, pulling it towards him.  
  
“What’s all this stuff in your bag anyway?” Joonmyeon asks him, setting said bag onto his lap. Baekhyun looks over from where he’s taking a photo of himself and gasps quietly, Joonmyeon’s phone almost falling from his grip.  
  
“Don’t touch it,” Baekhyun whispers, dragging it across the table and sitting it beside him. “And it’s not just _stuff_. It’s important to me.”  
  
Joonmyeon bites his cheek between his teeth. “I saw a Rilakkuma themed ice-cream wrapper in there the other day, that’s important to you?”  
  
Baekhyun huffs and his pink bangs blow out of his face. “If you’re gonna make fun of me I’m just going to leave.” He scoots across the leather seat as angrily as he can and pulls his bag over his shoulders.  
  
“Wait Baekhyun, I didn’t mean— I’m sorry.” Joonmyeon scrubs his hand down his face. “I’m not going to make fun of you, please stay.”  
  
Baekhyun pauses, considering it then sighs. “Fine, I’ll stay. But only because I want to, not because you asked.” He plops down right on the edge of the cushion, his bag on his lap.  
  
He coughs into his hand and reaches across the table, grabbing the wine bottle sitting next to Joonmyeon’s half-empty glass. “I kept that ice-cream wrapper because I bought it when I was out with Jongin, that guy over there.” He points to the dark-haired boy sitting next to Chanyeol. “I thought it was cute and Chanyeol likes Rilakkuma so I wanted to show it to him too.”  
  
Joonmyeon hums, his head resting on the edges of both his palms, his hands framing his face. “Why not throw it out after you’ve shown him? Or have you not yet?”  
  
Baekhyun chews his bottom lip into his mouth and Joonmyeon has to stop himself from reaching over and stopping him. Instead he just watches as Baekhyun peels the label from the wine bottle and shoves it into one of his bag’s side pockets. “I showed him, I just like to keep it because it reminds me of that day. All this stuff in here reminds me of something or someone.” His eyes flicker to Joonmyeon’s for a moment then fall back onto the bottle, where he’s picking at the access paper stuck to the glass.  
  
“Oh.” Is all Joonmyeon says, his cheeks warming as he stares at the pocket Baekhyun just zipped up.

 

*****

 

Visiting Baekhyun at his many jobs becomes part of Joonmyeon’s routine. He calls rain-check on brunches to bring Baekhyun food while he works his shifts at the flower shop and skips out on fashion shows to sit at his usual table at the Lounge to listen to Baekhyun sing. Kyungsoo drops by sometimes, pretending to just be checking up on the place but he never seems to stay as short as he originally planned.  
  
Baekhyun texts him everyday too, Joonmyeon can’t respond to all of them but it doesn’t stop him from smiling every time he looks down to check the time and sees a selca of Baekhyun sitting on his lock-screen.  
  
It’s not until a few weeks later when they’re both huddled under the Lounge’s awning a couple of hours after it’s closed that Joonmyeon decides to do something about the way his heart flutters every time Baekhyun so much as looks at him.  
  
“Baekhyun,” Joonmyeon starts, his voice cracks on the first syllable and the pink-haired boy laughs at the sound. “Would you like to go out with me?”  
  
Baekhyun's laugh dies in his throat and an odd noise crossed between a hiccup and a cough comes tumbling between his lips. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “Like a date?”  
  
“Yeah,” Joonmyeon answers, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. “Like a date.”

 

*****

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.” Kyungsoo tells him a few days later. He’s flipped upside down on Joonmyeon’s bed, head hanging over the side, his face almost as red as the lipstick smeared across his cheek. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Why are you wearing lipstick?” Joonmyeon snaps back, glaring at his friend through the mirror in his closet. He holds a white floral shirt up to his chest, Kyungsoo wipes at his mouth and makes a face. Joonmyeon sighs and throws it into the ever-growing reject pile on the floor.

“Why not? Chanyeol thought it would look good.” He rubs at his lips again but it doesn’t do anything. “Try that one.” He points to a turtleneck hanging up on the other end of the wardrobe. Joonmyeon pulls it out and shrugs, it would have to do.  
  
He pulls his sweatshirt over his head and throws it onto the bed. Kyungsoo sputters as it lands on his face and Joonmyeon smiles.  
  
“You know, your father has been talking to my father a lot these days.” His tone is innocent but Joonmyeon turns, pulling the sweater on, and narrows his eyes at him. Nothing ever good comes out of their fathers talking.  
  
“What about?”  
  
“Some business… Some _other_ stuff…” He trails off but Joonmyeon groans nonetheless. “I’ve tried to talk him out of it, but he’s really worried about Seohyun. He doesn’t think she’s ever going to calm down.”  
  
“That’s not my problem!” Joonmyeon yells and Kyungsoo rolls over so that he’s sitting up right. “I know she’s your sister and my friend, but _fuck_ Kyungsoo— I don’t want to marry her.”  
  
“I know.” Kyungsoo tells him, his hand coming up to squeeze his shoulder. “But maybe you should tell your father, not just that you don’t want to marry her but that you don’t want to marry any _hers_.”  
  
Joonmyeon clenches his hands into fists at his sides and tries not to scream. Kyungsoo talks like it easy— and it was for him, but their fathers are two completely different people. Kyungsoo’s father hadn’t blinked an eye when he told him he was bisexual, but he saw the way his father had looked away, feigning a stomach ache as he made his way from the room. Joonmyeon had followed him of course and they ended up fighting in the hall. It had taken everything not to punch him but there were people around and they were guests in someone else’s home.  
  
“It’s not that easy.” Joonmyeon says, his voice quiet. “He’ll just push for it harder if I tell him.” He sniffles and Kyungsoo pinches him in the arm.  
  
“None of that, okay?” He combs his fingers through the hair on the back of Joonmyeon’s neck. It’s meant to be soothing but Kyungsoo’s never been good at things like that. Joonmyeon swats his hand away. “Baekhyun’s probably waiting for you and he’s not the most patient person.”

 

*****

 

Walking into Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s shared apartment was like walking into a different dimension. He didn’t know what he expected, Kyungsoo didn’t say much when he sent him on his way but Joonmyeon can’t help but stare at the oddness of it all. The building itself was hard to find, shoved between two large complexes and hidden behind a billboard advertising the watch that Joonmyeon currently has strapped around his wrist. When he had dropped Baekhyun off at home the first night Baekhyun had insisted that pull over before they got there, claiming that it was only a few buildings over but now Joonmyeon realizes, that it wasn’t true.  
  
He doesn’t remember much about finding their room. The hallways were small and water dripped from the ceilings. A dog sat outside one of the apartments, chained to the doorknob. It growled at him as he walked by and the clink of the chain against the floor made Joonmyeon flinch.  
  
Standing in their apartment was an entirely different story though. He hasn’t moved from his spot right in front of their mangled door. Chanyeol had offered him a seat but most of the couch and chairs were occupied by his rowdy group of friends. Two of them he recognized from a few weeks ago. He smiles at Sehun who just stares at him quizzically and Joonmyeon feels absolutely naked beneath his stare.  
  
Joonmyeon wasn’t one for interior decorating, he had to hire his own for his condo but looking around their apartment, neither were Chanyeol or Baekhyun. The fabric of the couches clashed with the rugs underneath them and the legs were broken off of one of the chairs. Chanyeol had seen him staring and he just said one of them broke so they just took all of them off. He wondered whose idea it was.  
  
“You sure about just standing there?” One of the other boys asks, he’s sprawled across Chanyeol and Sehun who are sitting on the couch, he doesn’t look away from his phone as he talks.  
  
Chanyeol flicks him on the forehead and he swats him back. “Don’t be rude Jongdae.” Chanyeol tells him and Jongdae mutters that he wasn’t under his breath. “He’s just got a case of culture shock, don’t worry Kyungsoo had it too.” He grins like it's something to be proud of.  
  
“Oh my god, he’s rich too?” Jongdae sits up at that and Joonmyeon feels his cheeks warming. “Where the hell are you two finding these guys?” He turns towards Joonmyeon, “Do you have any single friends?” Sehun kicks him this time and he goes rolling off the couch.  
  
Joonmyeon laughs, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “Maybe, I’ll have to check I haven’t talked to a lot of them in a long time.” He tries to sort through the guys he met during University, his mind instantly flying to Minseok. He was an heir to his father’s company the last time he spoke to him. He’s seen him in the papers a few times, nothing bad, a few charity events. Jongdae would like him.  
  
“Sorry about Baekhyun by the way,” Chanyeol tells him, flipping through the channels. “He doesn’t usually take this long when he’s going out with someone. Last time he just threw on a pair of sweats and a sweater.” He shrugs and Joonmyeon swallows.  
  
“Is that good or bad?”  
  
He shrugs again, this time studying Joonmyeon’s expression. “Could be either, I don’t know.”  
  
“When was the last time he went out with someone?” Joonmyeon asks next and Chanyeol leans forward.  
  
“Like the last time he dated someone? Or last time he went out on a date?”  
  
“Any, either.” Joonmyeon answers and Chanyeol laughs.

  
“The last person he dated, well actually it was person _s_ , and it was these two idiots.” He gestures between Sehun and the other boy sleeping on the broken chair. Sehun grins, looks over at his apparent boyfriend, Jongin, sees that he’s not paying attention and shimmies down on the couch so that his leg is long enough to kick him. Jongin blinks himself awake and nods his head, pretending that he was present the whole time. “I don’t remember how long that went on, maybe six months at the most?”  
  
Jongin nods again at that but Sehun’s nose crinkles, “I think it was a bit longer.”  
  
“Ah, whatever.” Chanyeol waves a dismissive hand at him, “The point is, you three dated and now only you two are dating. The guy he last went on a _date_ with however, was this guy named Yixing. He was super nice, super handsome, literally the best guy ever.” Sehun scoffs at that and Joonmyeon thinks back to the night at the lounge when Baekhyun had sat himself in his lap during his last song.  
  
“He had to go back to China though, which was really sad because we all liked him so much.” Chanyeol frowns and Jongdae makes an affirming noise from the floor. “We joke about how he left to get away from Baekhyun but I think it’s still a fresh wound for him.”  
  
There’s a sudden screech from one of doors down the hallway and they all turn towards it. Joonmyeon steps towards the noise but Chanyeol holds up a hand for him to wait. He slowly mutes the TV and they all wait for something to happen.  
  
Joonmyeon jumps at the loud thump that echos through the small apartment next, glancing over at the rest of the boys, but Chanyeol just nods like he understands what all that was.  
  
“Fuck!” Baekhyun’s voice yells out and Joonmyeon’s eyebrows knit together. “Fuck Fuck Fuck! Chanye— Sehu— one of you come in here please!” He’s whining and there’s something in his voice that makes him sound like he’s on the verge of tears.  
  
Chanyeol and Sehun kick and punch at each other on the couch. Sehun hits Chanyeol on the side of the head and Chanyeol elbows him in the stomach as Baekhyun’s screams get louder. Sehun finally sighs and gets up from the couch, a bright red spot forming on the middle of his forehead.  
  
Joonmyeon shuffles forward, keen on taking Sehun’s spot on the couch but Chanyeol stands before he can take it, grabbing him but the elbow and pulling him out into the hall.  
  
“Hey um..” Chanyeol drops his hand back to his side, his apartment door closing behind him.. “I don’t know if Baekhyun ever thanked you for bailing him out and dropping the charges, or even if he apologized for taking your car but..” His eyes are on Joonmyeon’s shoes, one of his hands rubbing at the base of his neck. “Thank you, a lot.. I don’t know If I would have been able to pay for it, probably would of had to sell something— not that I wouldn’t of, it’s just that I don’t have much to begin with.”  
  
Joonmyeon’s eyes flicker to the door behind Chanyeol’s large figure, there’s a generous amount of tape covering the middle from when Joonmyeon knows the two of them tried to re-enact the “Here’s Johnny” scene from the shining. He also knows it resulted in a trip to the hospital and call to the police from their landlord. Joonmyeon’s lips quirk up and he steps forward, a hand resting on Chanyeol’s shoulder.  
  
“Hey It’s okay, I know Baekhyun can be a bit of troublemaker, to put it _lightly_.” Chanyeol snorts. “If he ever gets in trouble, like police involvement trouble, just call me.” He squeezes his shoulder lightly and Chanyeol nods.  
  
“Thanks Joonmyeon.”  
  
Joonmyeon offers him a small smile and he gestures towards the door, silently asking if he can go back inside and Chanyeol nods, even opens the door for him.  
  
Sehun is back in his spot when they get back inside, laughing loudly as he clings to Jongin who had moved from the broken chair to Chanyeol’s spot beside him. He sees Jongdae rolling on the floor with tears in his eyes, mouth open and body shaking with silent laughter. Chanyeol disappears from his side and goes into the room where Baekhyun was screaming from earlier. Joonmyeon catches a glimpse of the inside and sees that it's a bathroom. He also sees someone sitting in the bathtub before Chanyeol shuts the door.  
  
“What the hell is going on?” Joonmyeon asks but the question falls on deaf ears.  
  
There’s movement down the hall, someone bumps into the door and there’s a struggle from what Joonmyeon can hear. _What the actual hell._

 

The bathroom door opens with a small creak and all the boys in the apartment turn towards it. Jongin, Sehun and Jongdae clamor onto the couch and lean over the side, trying to get a better view around the kitchen counter. Joonmyeon’s sure his confusion is written all over his face but it only makes Jongdae stifle a laugh behind his hand as Baekhyun walks out of the bathroom, both his hands entwined over the top of his head. _oh.  
  
_ That’s what they all were laughing at. Baekhyun’s hair is no longer the soft pink it was just a few days ago. It’s now a light orange color.  
  
“Oh.” Is all Joonmyeon says and Baekhyun looks like he’s about to burst out into tears. “It doesn’t look bad though! Why do you look so upset?” It really doesn’t.  
  
Joonmyeon understands why the other boys were laughing though, they’re friends, they’re close enough to laugh at each others misfortunes. Joonmyeon doesn’t have that luxury, but it isn’t like he would laugh either way.  
  
“Yes it _does_ Joonmyeon, but it's fine. It’s fine right? we can still go out?” His eyes lift from where they were examining the scuff marks littered across the aging wood panels and Joonmyeon almost melts.  
  
“Of course, I’d still take you out even if you were bald.”  
  
“Well, judging by how much he’s dyed his hair in the last few months, I’d say it isn’t long until then.” Jongdae grins at the both of them and Baekhyun attacks him, jumping from his spot in front of Joonmyeon to right on top of the loud mouthed brunette, his small hands curled into fists.  
  
_Jesus Christ._ Joonmyeon’s eye widen and he steps forward, grabbing Baekhyun’s wrists and pulling him back against his chest. His eyes are narrowed and he’s breathing hard, Jongdae continues to laugh at him from where Sehun has pulled him away. Baekhyun struggles against his grip and Joonmyeon releases one of his wrists to wrap a hand around his waist.  
  
“Let’s go Rocky, before you knock some of his teeth out.” Joonmyeon laughs as he reluctantly lets Baekhyun go, the younger huffing and angrily grabbing the green blazer that’s folded on top of the kitchen counter.

 

*****

 

When they arrive at the restaurant Joonmyeon notices right away how quiet Baekhyun gets. The hostess shows them to their table, near the back, away from the lime-light, and Baekhyun hasn’t said one word since Joonmyeon pulled up outside and handed his keys over to the valet. He tries to catch Baekhyun’s eyes as she seats them but he’s too focused on himself, or his outfit Joonmyeon assumes.  
  
He watches as Baekhyun’s eyes drift over the couples sitting around, their expensive suits and silky dresses, then down onto his dark jeans. His fingers pull at the sleeves of his blazer then shift to the buttons. He does the middle one up, trying to hide the red writing that’s scribbled across the front.  
  
Joonmyeon’s own fingers pick at the fraying edge of the menu in his hands and he frowns, kicking himself under the table. He hadn’t thought about how Baekhyun would react to all this.  
  
“Hey,” Joonmyeon starts and Baekhyun looks up startled, as if he had forgotten Joonmyeon was there. “Are you okay with this? We can go if you want.”  
  
Baekhyun shakes his head violently, “No, no, I’m fine. Just a little out of my element here.” He laughs but it sounds forced.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
He nods, “Yeah, I’m sure.”  
  
Joonmyeon stares at him, at his shaking fingers around the glass of water the waitress put down just moments ago, at his other hand fidgeting with the spoon to his left, (more specifically the spiral carving on the handle), and places his menu back down on the table. It lands louder than expected and Baekhyun looks up again, frazzled.  
  
He reaches over and grabs the menu out of Baekhyun’s hand and places it on top of his own.  
  
“Are you ordering for me?” Baekhyun asks, “Because I’d really appreciate that, I don’t even think any of the words on there are Korean.”  
  
Joonmyeon doesn’t answer, just shakes his head in reply and pushes his chair away from the table. Baekhyun raises an eyebrow at him, and goes to say something but Joonmyeon pulls him out of his seat before he can. His fingers wrap around his wrist, thumb pressing down lightly against the veins there. His skin is warm and Joonmyeon feels the staccato of his heartbeat beneath his fingers.   
  
Baekhyun shakes his hand until Joonmyeon loosens his grip around him. He makes a slightly strangled noise in the back of his throat and grabs his hand back, this time entwining their fingers together as Joonmyeon drags him through the restaurant.  
  
“What was that?” Baekhyun asks when they’re outside. The sun had long set, the streetlights taking it’s place and Joonmyeon can see both of their breaths fogging between them.  
  
“I wasn’t in the mood for that kind of food.” Joonmyeon shrugs but Baekhyun smiles at him knowingly.  
  
Something wet lands on the center of Baekhyun’s forehead and Joonmyeon watches it fall down the curve of his nose, his lip, down his jaw. Baekhyun reaches his hand out in front of him, another one landing on his palm. Joonmyeon looks up and a raindrop falls on the tip of his nose.  
  
“It’s raining.” Baekhyun observes, “Why does it always rain when we’re together?”  
  
When Joonmyeon was in University he was roped into taking a literature class by Kyungsoo. The class was mostly spent analysing texts that they’ve read, relating them to other texts, and Joonmyeon never thought that any of it would be useful, until now. He remembers during one class, they looked at the symbolism of rain in literature, and most of the students spoke about how it was a negative effect to the novel, it meant restriction, the limitation of a human, or just the natural gloominess of it, how it dulled the emotions of everyone around. But Joonmyeon never saw it that way. Rain had always been something positive to him.  
  
“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” Joonmyeon tells him, “Not when there’s been a drought.”  
  
“And has there been a drought, Kim Joonmyeon?”  
  
“I think there has, Byun Baekhyun.”

 

*****

 

Baekhyun makes it abundantly clear that he doesn’t want to let a little rain ruin their night. It comes down light against their skin and Baekhyun laughs every couple of seconds, claiming that it tickles. He’s laughed tons of times since they’ve met but Joonmyeon feels his stomach tighten every time he does.  
  
The rain continues to loosen the grip they have on each other's hands but Baekhyun doesn't let go, he just keeps squeezing Joonmyeon’s hand, tightening his grip.  
  
“You know how some people have like suit kinks or fetishes or whatever they're called?” Baekhyun asks randomly, splashing his foot onto a puddle on the street.  
  
Joonmyeon sputters. “What about it?”  
  
“Well, I was thinking about it and I see you in suits or relatively nice clothes every time I see you,” He starts and Joonmyeon motions for him to continue, “So, I think I would actually get turned on by seeing you in something like a t-shirt and jeans, _ooh!_ or maybe some sweatpants.” He looks Joonmyeon up and down as he talks then nods to himself, imagining it. “Yeah, I think so.”  
  
Joonmyeon laughs and with his free hand pushes Baekhyun’s face away, his fingers pressing lightly against his jaw.

 

*****

 

He pulls them into a small chicken shop just as the rain starts to subside, the scent of petrichor clinging to their jackets. The door opens and closes with a chime and Baekhyun hops over to the cash register.  
  
Joonmyeon shakes his arms out of his coat and cringes at the squelching sound the fabric makes as he rings some of the water out.  
  
“Heechul!” Baekhyun exclaims and Joonmyeon looks up to see him half-propped up on the counter, giving the cashier a hug. The man, Heechul, pushes him off with a look of disgust, his uniform now soaking wet.  
  
“Gross, Baekhyun.” He grabs a few napkins off the counter and attempts to dry himself. “What do you want?”  
  
Joonmyeon hangs his coat on the back of one of the chairs closest to him, leaving Baekhyun to talk to his friend. He wanders around the furthest side of the shop where a bulletin board takes up half the wall. It's covered in ads and photos, most of them dating back years. The corner of a polaroid sticks out from behind a babysitting flyer and he pivots it on the thumbtack to move it out of the way.  
  
It’s Baekhyun.  
  
Not just him, but that's where Joonmyeon’s eyes are drawn first. He's a younger than he is now, by a couple of years, his hair is its natural black and he's dressed head-to-toe in a school uniform. It's so faded with age that he can barely make out the insignia ironed onto the jacket but from what Joonmyeon can see, he had attended a performing arts school, one that had been closed down a few years after this picture was taken, if the date scribbled onto the bottom was correct.  
  
Chanyeol's beside him wearing the same thing, his hair almost at his shoulders. Joonmyeon glances around the restaurant, at the newly installed counters and floors. At Baekhyun who's currently trying to grab a duffel bag out of Heechul’s hands.  
  
“Heechul! ” Baekhyun whines, “Just give it! we’re both soaking wet—I’ll give them back the next time we hang out! Give it or I'm telling your boyfriend that you have this bag in the first place!” Heechul sighs and hands the bag over to the smaller boy. “Thank you!”  
  
“What's in there?” Joonmyeon asks as Baekhyun walks up to his side, the bag hanging over his shoulder. Baekhyun doesn't answer right away, his eyes falling onto the polaroid held between Joonmyeon’s fingers. Joonmyeon pokes his cheek gently and Baekhyun blinks back to reality.  
  
“Oh, dry clothes.” He twists the bag’s strap between his fingers, “Come on, I’ve been dying to get you out of your clothes for weeks.” He grins and lets the strap fall into the crease of his shoulder, both of his hands coming to clasp around Joonmyeon’s own.

 

*****

 

Baekhyun plops the small bag onto the floor just as Joonmyeon is closing the door behind them, locking it for good measure. The door creaks on its hinges and the bright lights buzz on the ceiling above. Baekhyun sits on the ground beside it, legs crossed, unzipping the bag. Joonmyeon hadn’t got a good look at it before but it’s decorated in little pins, mostly characters from animes and cartoons.  
  
“Okay, so I’ll wear this…” Baekhyun says to himself and Joonmyeon slowly takes a seat on the other side of the bag. He pulls out a pair of light ripped jeans from the bag and holds it up to his waist, he seems to consider it for a moment before nodding and folding them, placing them beside him. He sticks his hand back in and pulls out a white t-shirt, similar to the one he’s already wearing but without the text on it. “And you can..Oh my— I thought he got rid of this.” He grins wickedly and Joonmyeon leans over to see what he’s smiling about. “You can wear this Kim Joonmyeon.”  
  
He throws a bundle of clothes at him and Joonmyeon’s hands fly out to catch them. They’re soft, which is the first thing Joonmyeon notices and far less wet than the clothes he’s currently wearing so he doesn’t second-guess Baekhyun’s choice, even if he is being a bit suspicious.  
  
Joonmyeon moves away into one of the corners while Baekhyun changes right in the middle of the room. He tries to keep his eyes on the ground but Baekhyun continues to make small noises of frustration that have him glancing upwards. Joonmyeon swallows hard and turns to face the wall, his mouth going dry at the sight of Baekhyun’s wet briefs clinging to his ass.  
  
He raises his arms and grabs onto the neck of his sweater, the fabric clings to his back like a second skin and Joonmyeon finds himself making the same frustrated noise Baekhyun was making just a few moments ago. It slides up his back just a bit then gets caught in the wet blonde mess on top of his head.  
  
“Do you need help?”  
  
Joonmyeon jumps at the sound of Baekhyun’s voice, not having noticed how close he’d gotten, didn’t even hear him move. He can feel Baekhyun’s hands hovering over his hips, close enough to touch but not quite doing so. His breath is warm across the exposed skin of his back and it sends chills down his spine.  
  
“What?” Joonmyeon asks, his voice coming out breathless.  
  
Baekhyun chuckles lightly, his hands now gripping Joonmyeon’s hips, and presses down slightly, indicating for him to turn. Joonmyeon does, his arms stuck in an upward position, his head awkwardly poking out from the neck of the sweater, and his breath gets caught in his throat.  
  
Baekhyun’s chest is bare, that’s the first thing he notices, and it surprises him how muscular he is for a boy whose only form of exercise is running from the cops. He’s sure there’s something else too but Baekhyun is standing _so close_ that every other thought in his brain is wiped clean by the soft curve of his smile and the slight blush warming his cheeks as Joonmyeon stares.  
  
“I asked,” Baekhyun starts, his voice low, “Do you need help?”  
  
Joonmyeon nods weakly and Baekhyun’s hands come up, grabbing onto the fabric bunching up under his arms and pulling it over his head. It lands with a wet splat on the linoleum floor. The cold water from Joonmyeon pants seeps into a puddle at their feet but he doesn’t move from his spot. Baekhyun’s jeans are in a similar position over by the sink, a few paper towels thrown over top carelessly.  
  
Heechul’s jeans are tight around Baekhyun’s waist and thighs, the ripped holes stretching over the skin, but he’s so short that he’s had to roll them up several times for them to be above his ankles.  
  
Baekhyun’s fingers hover over Joonmyeon’s chest and he has to bite down on his lip to keep from letting out a shaky breath. His eyebrows are knitted together, the tip of his tongue peeking out from between his lips, concentrated, and Joonmyeon wants nothing more than to kiss him right there. He doesn’t though. Baekhyun’s index finger presses down slightly against his abdomen, tracing the lines between the muscles.  
  
“Baekhyun—”  
  
He looks up slowly, eyes mapping out every inch of his exposed chest before meeting Joonmyeon’s eyes. He looks slightly surprised, like hadn't expected Joonmyeon to speak, his hand falling from his skin. He coughs, gaze falling to the puddle on the ground.  
  
“I’ll, uhm, let you get finished.” He steps back and Joonmyeon makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, grabbing Baekhyun’s hand and guiding it back to fully splay against his abs.  
  
Joonmyeon would be lying if he said hadn’t thought about this. Ever since they’d met he’d lay awake at night, hand circled around his aching cock, fingers pumping out of his ass. He'd shift against the sheets, moans pouring from his lips as he fucked himself harder, _faster_ , but his fingers were too thick, too short, not anything like he imagined Baekhyun's to be.  
  
Joonmyeon feels the muscles twitching beneath Baekhyun’s hands and he watches as the younger’s eyes flicker to every movement.  
  
“I didn't expect you to be so muscular.” Baekhyun admits, his hand slowly shifting lower. His breath hitching along with Joonmyeon's when they hit the metal buckle of his belt.  
  
He pauses, fingers tracing the square shape of it, waiting.  
  
“Do you really want the first time I suck your dick to be in a greasy bathroom?” Baekhyun asks, eyes not moving from where they’re staring at his hand. He laughs after but Joonmyeon can hear the tightness of his voice as his thumb traces the front zipper of his pants.  
  
“I don't _not_ want the first time you suck my dick to be in a greasy bathroom.”  
  
Baekhyun smiles. “That's surprising, I thought you only fucked on a bed of rose petals and money while a string quartet serenades you and your lover.”  
  
He noses along the edge of Joonmyeon’s jaw, nipping occasionally at the sensitive skin and Joonmyeon has bite down on his knuckles to keep from moaning. Baekhyun makes a quiet tsking sound and takes his hand away from his mouth. He moans himself though at the slight ‘pop’ noise it makes when he pulls it away.  
  
He gathers both of Joonmyeon's hands in his own and pins them to the wall behind them.  
  
“We can do that if you want,” Joonmyeon tells him, his hands clenching into fists. “We can do _whatever_ you want.”  
  
He grins at that and Joonmyeon feels the movement of his lips against his cheek.

 

*****

 

Heechul’s falling asleep at the register by the time they come out of the washroom. Baekhyun finally covered with a t-shirt and Joonmyeon out of his wet clothes. The reason Baekhyun was acting so suspicious about the shirt that he had picked for him earlier was only made evident after Joonmyeon had pulled it over his head and the fabric didn't make all the way down his to his waist.  
  
Baekhyun liked it though, so he didn't complain too much.  
  
“Chicken please!” Baekhyun yelled loudly, ringing the bell near Heechul’s head in quick succession. Said man screams out in the seconds following the first few dings. He grabs the bell and chucks it down the hallway behind the counter.  
  
“I’m sleeping.”  
  
“You're _working._ ”  
  
Heechul groans loudly and drags his exhausted body into the kitchen, the door swinging closed behind him. Baekhyun turns to Joonmyeon and slides up closer to him.  
  
“I was right by the way,” Baekhyun says to him, “I definitely have a casual clothes kink when it comes to you.”

 

*****

 

The rain continues on and off for the rest of the night and it doesn't bother Joonmyeon one bit. Baekhyun and him hide out in one of the booths furthest from the door, presses up against each other, eating chicken that they're pretty sure Heechul spat it.  
  
Baekhyun's hands start to wonder at some point between finishing their drinks and Joonmyeon almost having a heart attack at the way Baekhyun sucked his his fingers into his mouth in lieu of a clean napkin.  
  
He shifts on the leather seat, pushing Joonmyeon with him so that he's positioned between his open legs across the booth. Joonmyeon slides his hands into the front pockets of Baekhyun's jeans but the younger boy pulls them out and holds them out in front of them, his fingers tracing the bones of Joonmyeon's hand. He can hear the soft chime from the front door and the echo Heechul’s voice, but he tunes it out.  
  
“Hey,” Baekhyun says, tilting his head back, “Chanyeol’s apart of this dumb band and he has a gig coming up in a little while, he wants me to sing lead vocals for them and I was wondering you wanted to come watch.”  
  
Joonmyeon grins, “I’d love to.”  
  
Baekhyun shifts again and suddenly he’s on top, pressing Joonmyeon into the seat. His orange bangs hang off his forehead like a curtain and Joonmyeon reaches up to pull at them gently. Baekhyun smiles softly and leans down, pressing his lips against Joonmyeon's own.

 

*****

 

Joonmyeon is still half-asleep when he hears the loud slam of a door coming from the hallway outside his condo. He blinks himself awake slowly, the taste of cola and chicken still lingering on his tongue. There's another loud thump and then Joonmyeon's front door is flying open.  
  
He groans and kicks at the covers still layered over his body. He doesn't bother going to see who it is, if he waits long enough they'll come to him. He hears them running up the spiral stairs and down the hallway, he expects them to bust down his bedroom door too but instead there's a gentle knock.  
  
“I’m coming in.” Kyungsoo tells him from the other side and Joonmyeon just grunts in response. It's too early for words.  
  
He hears the door open and close and Kyungsoo shuffling around the large room. He pulls back the curtains and Joonmyeon hisses, burying himself into his blankets.  
  
“Hey, get up.” Something thick hits him in the back of the head and Joonmyeon flips over, grabbing it in his hands. It's a rolled up newspaper.  
  
“Why do you still read this things? Go digital you geaser.”  
  
Kyungsoo scrubs a hand down his face. “Why so it would be easier for me to see stuff like this?” He shoves his phone in Joonmyeon’s face and the elder blanches whiter than his sheets.  
  
It's a picture of him. And Baekhyun. It’s a picture of him and Baekhyun. Together.  
  
“Fuck, _fuck.”_ He grabs the phone from Kyungsoo’s hand and zooms in on the two of them. It's from outside the restaurant last night, after Joonmyeon had pulled him out into the rain, their hands entwined together. He zooms in again, this time on his own face. “Fuck..” He whispers, there’s no other way anyone could read the expression on his face, it’s pure adoration and fondness.  
  
Kyungsoo coughs, “Uh.. there’s more.” He motions for him to scroll down.  
  
Joonmyeon swallows hard and swipes his finger down the twitter thread. There _is_ more. But not from the restaurant that they had first gone too. It’s from the chicken shop, it’s taken from _inside_ the chicken shop. Joonmyeon’s eyes go wide and he sees more than feels his fingers begin to shake against Kyungsoo’s phone.  
  
Joonmyeon would have been fine if it was just them standing at the register, or looking at the bulletin board together but the paparazzi never make it that easy. The photos are low quality and slightly blurry, taken quickly, but they’re clear enough to see their faces. There’s two photos attached to the tweet, one of Baekhyun sitting between his legs later in the night after the both of them had changed, then one of them a few minutes later when Baekhyun had kissed him. He doesn’t even want to read the article attached.  
  
“Hey Joon—”  
  
“I need to call Baekhyun, I need to apologize.”  
  
Kyungsoo nods and grabs his phone that’s sitting on his night-side table, handing it to him. Joonmyeon’s fingers still shake slightly against the screen and it takes him a few seconds to locate Baekhyun in his contacts. It rings several times before there’s a voice on the other end.  
  
“Yello?” It’s Chanyeol.  
  
“Chanyeol? Is Baekhyun there?” Kyungsoo’s head looks up at the mention of his boyfriend and Joonmyeon rolls his eyes. “Can you put him on?”  
  
“Ah, he’s asleep right now. I don’t really wake him up.” Joonmyeon lets out a sigh of relief, if he’s asleep he hasn’t seen it yet, and if he hasn’t seen it yet he can’t hate him. But that doesn’t mean..  
  
“I saw those pics of you guys by the way,” Chanyeol tells him, his words are barely legible through the chewing. “Hot.”  
  
Joonmyeon groans into his hands, “I’m so stupid, I didn’t even think— I haven’t been in the tabloids lately so I kind of forgot that I’m a sort-of public figure.”  
  
Chanyeol laughs, “How do you forget something like that? And don’t say because Baekhyun makes you feel like a regular person because I’ll come over to your rich ass apartment and slap you upside the head. That’s stupid. I appreciate the gayness of it though.”  
  
Kyungsoo laughs softly beside him and Joonmyeon mouths, “Can you hear him?”. Kyungsoo nods and scoots closer, pressing his ear against the other side of Joonmyeon’s phone.  
  
“Thanks Chanyeol,” His hand rubs at the nape of his neck, “Do you think he’ll be mad? I can probably get them taken down It just might take a while.”  
  
Chanyeol makes a weird noise, “No! Don’t take them down, Baekhyun’s always wanted to be famous and I’m like 99% sure this is as close as he’s ever going to get.”  
  
“Okay I’ll keep that in m— “ A beep comes through the line and Joonmyeon’s heart stops. He pulls his phone away from his ear. The black screen fades back into the call screen and his father’s name blinks at the top. “I have to go Chanyeol, tell Baekhyun i’m sorry.” He hangs up before Chanyeol can say anything and tosses the phone onto the bed like he’s been burned.  
  
“Answer it!” Kyungsoo hisses.  
  
Joonmyeon whines and Kyungsoo punches him in the shoulder. “Fine!”  
  
He picks the phone up slowly and hits the accept button, inhaling deeply. “Hello?”  
“What took so long?” His voice is rough and scratchy and Joonmyeon can almost smell the whiskey on his breath through the phone. “I’m sending Minho to come get you. We need to talk.” Then the line goes dead.

 

*

 

Kyungsoo suggests dressing in his nicest suit, not just for being in the presence of his father but so that he doesn’t have to do it after he’s killed. Joonmyeon thinks about it briefly but ultimately decides against it, opting to not dress up at all. He just pulls a sweatshirt over his bare chest and slips his house slippers onto his feet before shuffling down the hall to the elevator.  
  
The passenger side door of the car is locked when Joonmyeon gets down to the street, and Minho doesn’t greet him when he slides into the back seat, the small window between them shut tight.  
  
Joonmyeon’s fingers tap anxiously against the black of his screen. He considers calling Baekhyun again, maybe even get the chance to talk to him this time, but if he was sleeping 20 minutes ago he’s most likely still sleeping now and Joonmyeon isn’t really in the mood to talk to anyone else at the moment.  
  
A few texts pop up on his lock-screen from people he never really got around to knowing, all of them asking, in one way or another, about the photos. One of them stands out though, not an acquaintance or an almost friend but an _actual_ friend— Kim Minseok. He was just thinking about him the other day.  
  
It’s just a quick message saying that he’s happy that he found someone but it's unfortunate how the news got circulated. Joonmyeon texts him back saying thank you, and asks him if he’s seeing anyone himself. For Jongdae’s sake, he hopes he isn’t.

 

*****

 

Pulling up to his father’s home sends unwanted memories flooding through Joonmyeon’s mind. He exhales deeply and shoves his phone into the front pocket of his sweater. His eyes catch of the shrubbery planted in the center of the roundabout, it’s changed since the last time he’s been here. But of course it has, he hasn’t been back here in almost four years.  
  
The long driveway is empty save for a few of his father’s cars parked off to the side but Joonmyeon can still picture the crowd that had gathered at his house, can still hear the music blasting around him, can still remember the way his stomach dropped when two police officers walked in the front door to tell his father that his wife had been killed in a hit and run accident. He can still remember that he hadn’t even realized she had left the party.  
  
She had been loved by the public, an adored actress and environmentalist. She was famous for actual reasons, not just for being someone’s child.  
  
He feels bile burning at the back of his throat as the car slows to a stop and it takes him a moment to step out onto the concrete. His fingers shake against front door handle and the house is so quiet it sends chills down his spine. The sound of his slippers sliding against the shining marble floors echoes through the foyer and Joonmyeon slips them off his feet out of habit and places them in the closet to the right of the door.  
  
His father didn’t specify where he wanted to talk but it isn’t hard to Joonmyeon to guess. His office is on the second floor of the house and on the east side, opposite of where Joonmyeon’s old room is. He considers going by it, just to see if anything’s changed inside but he knows that it’s going to be locked.  
  
The art that Joonmyeon’s mother had picked out no longer lines the walls of the house, instead cold portraits of his father and dark, baroque era art. Joonmyeon himself had never been to interested in it but he had taken a few art classes in high-school and some of the history behind the paintings stayed with him.  
  
There’s hushed voices coming from the other side of the office’s door. Joonmyeon twists the handle and they fall silent. It doesn’t creak when he opens it and it just adds to the silence that washes over them. His father sits behind his desk, graying hair styled, suit freshly pressed. A few men stand behind him, his usual guards. He watches his father’s eyes flicker over his outfit and he doesn’t even bother hiding the look of disgust that paints his features.  
  
“You wanted to see me?” Joonmyeon asks and his father nods.  
  
“I let you have your fun over the years Joonmyeon but It’s time for this phase to end. You’re a grown man and you have a reputation to uphold in the public’s eyes. This tarnishes it.” He pauses, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I told you stop associating yourself with Seohyun’s brother years ago, he’s manipulating you.”  
  
A bead of sweat rolls down the side of Joonmyeon’s temple and he can feel it up until it drops off the side of his jaw. He knows his father doesn’t know he's gay, he assumes he means being single and avoiding Seohyun, avoiding _relationships_ altogether, but the mention of Kyungsoo has him visibly flinching. “Think what you want.” Joonmyeon tells him. “You don’t have any right to tell me who to spend my time with.”  
  
“And is that what this is?” His father asks, his hand turning the computer screen on his desk to face Joonmyeon. The photos of him and Baekhyun plastered on the monitor. “Spending time with someone?”  
  
Joonmyeon rolls his shoulders, the muscles in his neck tightening. He shouldn’t be talking to him like this. His mother would have never _allowed_ him to talk to him like this. If she was here, she would pinch Joonmyeon’s tongue between her fingers, her eyes narrowed but playful, and tell him to hold his tongue when speaking to those older than him. His arm twitches at his side and he almost does it, like he did when he was a child, hiding out in his room, tongue pinched between his two fingers, wanting so badly to tell his father he was wrong about _so_ many things. Instead he just runs it across the front of his teeth.  
  
“Like you said, I’m a grown man. I can make my own decisions.”  
  
“Not when your decisions affect other people.” His father’s hands slam down onto the dark wood of the desk and Joonmyeon flinches again. “Do you have any concept of responsibility Joonmyeon? Or do you just not care for your family?”  
  
Joonmyeon has to bite his cheek in order to keep his laugh in, but it comes out anyway, rough and harsh. “Family? You think we’re family? I’m a guest in my own home and nothing but an occasional accessory you throw on at parties. That isn’t family.”  
  
His father stares at him for a moment and Joonmyeon holds his gaze. “You’ll realize, one day, that everything I do is for your own good. Now leave.”

 

*****

 

Kyungsoo is still at his condo when he gets back a few hours later.  
  
Minho and the car had both been gone when he walked down the front steps of the house and instead of calling an über or a cab, he decided to walk, which was an all around bad decision but he also didn't have his wallet on him so there was no other choice to make.  
  
“How was it?” He asks reluctantly and Joonmyeon flops down beside him on the couch. He's dressed now, in a pair of dark jeans and a sweater that's around five sizes too big for him. Joonmyeon picks up one of the sleeves hanging off his arm and places it over his eyes.  
  
“Short.”   
  
There's a distant clatter in the kitchen and Joonmyeon pulls the fabric from over his eyes to raise an eyebrow at Kyungsoo, who just smiles in return.  
  
“Oh! Joonmyeon!” He looks over and sees Chanyeol standing on the small set of stairs leading into the living room. “I didn't hear you come in, sorry for barging in like this but Baekhyun kept texting you and you weren't replying so we just came over and Kyungsoo was here already!”  
  
Joonmyeon barely hears the rest of what he's saying because he’s already running up the stairs at the mention of Baekhyun’s name.  
  
There’s only so many places he could be and Joonmyeon assumes he’s in the bedroom. There wouldn’t really be any reason for him to be in the barely furnished office that Joonmyeon barely uses.  
  
He’s right. Once he hits the stop of the stairs there’s a familiar voice coming from behind his bedroom door. He opens it softly, not wanting to disturb him and finds him sitting at the long forgotten piano pushed to the corner of his room. He hasn’t noticed him yet so Joonmyeon crosses his arms across his chest and leans against the door-frame as Baekhyun’s fingers fly over the dusty keys.  
  
Each note makes Joonmyeon’s heart melt and the small, content smile on his lips has him wondering what he else he’s yet to learn about this boy he wants to call his.  
  
“I didn’t know you played piano.” Joonmyeon says after the song has finished and Baekhyun jumps at the sound of his voice. “You’re pretty good.”  
  
He turns towards where Joonmyeon is standing and pats the space beside him on the bench, sliding over to give him more space. The curtains around his room have been drawn shut again, the room barely lit except for the few rays that sneak in through the cracks, but Joonmyeon had barely noticed, too focused on Baekhyun and the light he himself omits into every room he’s in.  
  
“Kyungsoo told me your father called you,” He says, starting the previous song over again, this time only with his right hand as his left slides between the space between them on the bench and curls on top of Joonmyeon’s own, squeezing slightly. “Are you alright?”  
  
Joonmyeon nods, “Yeah, I think so.” a slight pause. “Thank you.”  
  
Baekhyun smiles and squeezes his hand again. “Of course."

Neither of them speak for a while, Baekhyun focuses on the song he’s playing and Joonmyeon too entranced with the way his fingers move across the keys. It’s not something he’s heard before, or learned and he finds himself wondering again if Baekhyun had written it himself. He closes his eyes and leans his head on Baekhyun’s shoulder, letting the soft notes drape over him like a warm blanket.  
  
The song comes to an end a few minutes later and Joonmyeon peeks one of his eyes open to see Baekhyun staring down at him, a fond smile on his lips. His eyes flicker down to Joonmyeon’s lips for a moment and Joonmyeon licks them on impulse, Baekhyun’s eyes following the movement.  
  
He leans up from the awkward angle and presses his lips gently against Baekhyun’s own, the younger man grinning against his lips. His hands fall from the keys and rest themselves on Joonmyeon’s hips where they pull him to sit on his lap. Joonmyeon’s tongue licks into Baekhyun’s mouth, his teeth catching on his bottom lip and Baekhyun moans softly. He bites down again, harder this time and Baekhyun’s hips buck up against Joonmyeon’s crotch.  
  
“Fuck,” Baekhyun moans, his mouth falling open as Joonmyeon noses along his neck. He tilts his head to the side to give the elder more room and Joonmyeon licks a stripe up the column of his throat. He bites down and sucks at the skin beneath his ear, his other hand coming up to press down on the fading ones from yesterday.  
  
Baekhyun suddenly stands and Joonmyeon goes with him, the small space between the piano and the bench pressing them closer together. He feels Baekhyun against him, _all_ of him and Joonmyeon whimpers, pressing a thigh between his legs. Baekhyun’s hand squeezes his hips tightly, his teeth sinking down roughly against his collarbone. “Baekhyun, _fuck_ — Baekhyun, please I want—”  
  
“What do you want?” Baekhyun coaxes. His hands drop from around Joonmyeon’s hip to his ass; sliding between the thin fabric of his sweats to curl around his cheeks, pulling him even closer. One of his fingers slides between them and Joonmyeon gasps as his nail scratches ever so lightly against his hole. Blood rushes to his dick and he leans forward, resting his against Baekhyun’s shoulder as he gently grinds his hips down against Baekhyun’s thigh. “You have to tell me Joon, come on.”  
  
Baekhyun’s eyes are blown as he watches Joonmyeon fuck himself against him, his thigh pressing closer against him. Joonmyeon moans loudly and he bites down on Baekhyun’s shoulder to keep from crying out. “Fuck me,” He says as clearly as he can, “Baekhyun fuck me, please, _please.”  
_ Baekhyun curses, his hand coming up to tug on the back of Joonmyeon’s neck. He pulls his head back slightly and Joonmyeon gasps at the feeling. “Come on.” Baekhyun says to him, his voice so incredibly low, tugging him towards the large bed in the middle of the room. Joonmyeon’s hands slip up Baekhyun’s shirt and they separate far enough for Joonmyeon to pull it over his head and toss it to the end of the bed. Baekhyun follows him, his hands yanking Joonmyeon’s sweater off and then his shirt.  
  
“Fuck,” he moans, his hands sliding up Joonmyeon’s abs. He steps forward and Joonmyeon’s knees hit the side of the bed. Baekhyun presses on his stomach and he falls backwards, bouncing slightly on the mattress. Baekhyun peels his jeans and boxers off his legs before climbing on top of him and Joonmyeon’s mouth salivates at the sight of him. He reaches out and palms Baekhyun’s ass, who keens under the touch.  
  
“Gonna fuck you so good ‘Myeon,” Baekhyun tells him, his hands untying the string around his sweatpants and pulling them down.  
  
Joonmyeon scoots back on the mattress, wraps his hand around his elbow and yanks; Baekhyun falls on top of him, hard cocks brushing against each other. They both moan. “Yeah?” Joonmyeon asks, his voice breathless. “How are gonna fuck me Baekhyun? Gonna fuck me nice and hard? Gonna fill me up with your cock?”  
  
Baekhyun’s hips jerk forward and Joonmyeon gasps. “ _Shit,”_ Baekhyun mumbles into his neck. His hands slide up his chest, and down his arms until he has them pressed them down into the pillow at the end of the bed.  
  
He wraps his hand around Joonmyeon’s cock and his eyes falls closed.  
  
“Got you off so fast like this yesterday, didn't even need to use my mouth but _fuck,_ I wanted to, _want_ too.” His thumb slides over the slit on the head and Joonmyeon cries out.  
  
“There's guests downstairs Joonmyeon, you gotta be quiet.”  
  
Joonmyeon snorts at that and Baekhyun whines, his bottom lip poking out. “Don't laugh, Come on, I don't want them to hear.”  
  
Joonmyeon sighs and bites down on his bottom lip to keep from being too loud. But it's fucking _hard_. Baekhyun's hands are a work of art and the feel of them dragging across his cock has him bucking his hips into his fist. “Fuck me already, _please.”  
  
_ Baekhyun kisses him then, rough and hard, before pulling back and climbing off the bed. Joonmyeon props himself up on his elbows as he watches Baekhyun walk back towards the piano and pull his yellow backpack out from under the bench. He returns quickly before Joonmyeon can complain about the chill that hits him, with a condom and a pack of lube. He climbs back onto the bed and settles himself on Joonmyeon’s lap. Joonmyeon wraps his hand around the back of Baekhyun’s neck and pulls him down again, their kisses becoming desperate.  
  
“Do you want my fingers?” Baekhyun asks when he pulls back, close enough though that Joonmyeon can feel his lips moving against his own. Joonmyeon nods frantically and Baekhyun chuckles; ripping the lube packet open, spreading it on his fingers and around his hole. Joonmyeon flinches at the coldness of it and Baekhyun presses a soft kiss to his jaw. “Sorry.”  
  
The first press of Baekhyun’s fingers has Joonmyeon gasping and Baekhyun shushes him with gentle kisses across his cheeks. Baekhyun goes slow, easing in and out with his middle and index finger until Joonmyeon starts pressing down against his fingers asking for _more_ and _harder._ Baekhyun happily obliges. “Do you do this to yourself often?” Baekhyun asks, crooking his fingers. Joonmyeon bites down on his bottom lip nodding. “Do you think of me when you do?”  
  
Joonmyeon groans, “Of course I do— _fuck_.” Baekhyun crooks his fingers again and Joonmyeon cries out in pleasure, his back arching off the bed. “Please fuck me now, _fuck me_ please.”  
  
“I got you, don’t worry.” Baekhyun says, his teeth pulling on his earlobe, He slips his fingers out and wipes them off on the sheets, dropping another kiss to Joonmyeon’s lips before pulling back to slip the condom on.  
  
Joonmyeon spreads his legs wider and Baekhyun groans, settling between them. He rubs a palm down Joonmyeon’s chest before his hand settles on his waist and lines himself up, then slowly, he starts to sink in.  
  
Joonmyeon moans, his fingers curling into the white sheets bunched up around them, and Baekhyun draws circles against his hip to help him relax as he pushes in carefully. When he’s pushed in completely, his hips pressing up against Joonmyeon’s ass the elder looks up at him, drinking in the flush of his cheeks and the way his mouth has fallen slack.  
  
“You good?” Joonmyeon asks and Baekhyun looks down at him fondly.  
  
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”  
  
When Joonmyeon smiles, Baekhyun slowly pulls his cock out until only the tip is spreading him out and then slams back in. Joonmyeon moans, his back arching off the bed again. Baekhyun slides his free hand there, and places it where his spine ends, keeping it angled like that before slamming into him again. _God._ Baekhyun’s cock is so good, so much better than his fingers, it fills him just right, stretches him so well. It’s taking all his willpower not to just flip Baekhyun into his back and fuck himself on his cock until his comes.  
  
Baekhyun leans down and bites down on the skin just below his ear, his lips trailing down the slope of his neck. His pace never falters, the slap of skin against skin in an otherwise silent room has Joonmyeon moaning and pleading for _more,_ _more_. Baekhyun slides his hands down to his ass and the cup his cheeks, spreading them as he fucks into him.  
  
“Fuck, Joonmyeon,” Baekhyun whines, “You feel so good, _oh god.”  
  
_ Joonmyeon cups Baekhyun’s face in his hands and kisses him roughly. It’s all teeth and tongue and there’s a painful stretch in his neck but Joonmyeon doesn’t care, ignores it in favor of swallowing every sound that falls from Baekhyun’s mouth. He rocks his hips down onto each of Baekhyun’s thrusts, muscles clamping down around his cock when he brushes against the bundles of nerves inside of him. He cries out loudly and Baekhyun shoves one of his hands into his mouth.  
  
_Shit._ Joonmyeon’s eyes flutter closed and he focuses on the drag of Baekhyun’s cock inside of him, of his fingers pressing down against his tongue. He slides it between the digits and over his knuckles and Baekhyun’s cock twitches inside of him as he watches.  
  
It’s Baekhyun who comes first, cock thrusting into Joonmyeon in quick succession, the feeling of both his dick and fingers being engulfed in such tight heat has him falling over the edge, his hips twitching as he fills the condom. Joonmyeon groans and Baekhyun settles onto his shins, taking his cock into his hand. He jerks him off quickly, his fingers still pressing down inside his mouth and that’s all it takes for Joonmyeon to spill over Baekhyun’s fist.  
  
He wipes his hand on the sheets again then promptly collapses next to Joonmyeon, both panting slightly, sweat sticking to their skin. There’s clapping from downstairs coming up through the air vents and Joonmyeon isn’t sure if it’s pre-recorded from a show or if Chanyeol and Kyungsoo were listening the entire time.  
  
He rolls over onto his side to see Baekhyun staring at him. His orange hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat and Joonmyeon reaches over and brushes it out of his face, kisses him softly, lips closing over Baekhyun's top lip.  
  
“Are you feeling better?” Baekhyun asks, placing his hand on the side of Joonmyeon's neck, rubbing his thumb against the skin there, his breath hot on his cheek.  
  
Joonmyeon nods, wrapping his hands around Baekhyun's waist and pulling him closer.

 

*****

 

The photos of the two of them fade away from the mainstream after a couple of days. His father hasn’t spoken to him since their conversation at the house and for some strange reason it has Joonmyeon slightly on edge. It’s not like they talk everyday but he’ll usually get occasional emails from him about events but there’s been nothing but radio silence. He also hasn’t heard much from Seohyun since she returned his car a few weeks ago. He saw something online about her flying to Milan and the another post about her in L.A so at least he knows she alive.  
  
Joonmyeon’s eyes fall onto the watch around his wrist, it’s 12:32 pm. Baekhyun had texted him yesterday and asked him out to the movies, he hadn’t specified which one he wanted to see so Joonmyeon kind of, maybe, rented out the whole theater for the two of them so he could watch any one of them he wanted.  
  
He’s never felt like this with _anyone_ before, not that he’s dated much. there were a few guys back when he was in University, most of them quick fucks in the back of his car or in his dorm when Kyungsoo was out at the library, but the point still stands. Byun Baekhyun is special and extremely dear to his heart. It scares him to think of how many things he’d do for him if he asked again. No one's ever made him feel this _certain_ way. Joonmyeon doesn’t know what to call it.  
  
His phone buzzes in his pocket and grabs it, clicking the home button to unlock it. He catches a glimpse of Baekhyun’s name on his lock screen before it cuts to black and the small loading circle appears. He forgot to charge his phone.  
  
“Dammit.” Joonmyeon curses, tossing his phone onto the couch. Oh well. If Baekhyun was texting him that means he’s back from work and he’s free to go. Joonmyeon slips his sneakers onto his feet just as there’s a soft knock at the door.  
  
He slides his heel onto his foot and pulls the door open with his free hand. It’s Kyungsoo. He’s wearing the same sweater he was wearing a few days ago, dark green and entirely too big for him. He doesn’t look like he slept much.  
  
“Soo, are you okay?” He pulls the door open and wider and it takes Kyungsoo a few seconds to step inside the threshold.  
  
“Maybe,” He answers, rubbing his hands over his face. He looks down and see’s Joonmyeon pulling his other shoe on. “Where are you going?”  
  
“I’m gonna be late— but feel free to hang around here okay? We’ll talk when I get back.”  
  
Kyungsoo looks like he’s about to say something and his hand twitches slightly at his side like he wants to reach out and grab him but Joonmyeon just gives him a quick salute before he’s running down the hall.

 

*****

 

When he pulls up outside Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s apartment building he goes to grab his phone out of his jacket pocket, to text Baekhyun that he’s here, but his pockets are empty. He groans. He hates walking up there, that dog is always sitting near the stairs, ready to rip Joonmyeon’s face off. He sighs, pulling the key out of ignition, a different car than the one Baekhyun stole a few months ago, and shoves it in his pocket as he locks the doors behind him.  
  
Everything in the building creaks when Joonmyeon touches it, the stairs groan as he jogs up the steps and the door shutters as he pulls it open. The smell that Joonmyeon had tried to force himself to get used to hasn’t gotten any better since the last time he was here, the thick scent of paint thinner making his vision swim.  
  
He bypasses the asshole dog by jumping over the railings, he whispers a soft “parkour” to himself as he sticks the landing and mentally pats himself on the back.  
  
Their door is the last one on the left and Joonmyeon is almost out of breathe when he gets there. There's been an abundance of tape added to the “Here’s Johnny” hole in the door, different colors too. He makes a mental note to ask Baekhyun what happened.  
  
He raises his fist to knock but he’s suddenly pushed over from the side, something hard hitting him in the eye, a red hot pain bleeding over his cheek. He coils over, hand coming up to rub at the splintering pain. He looks up from where he's crouched and sees Chanyeol a few feet away from him, looming, holding his bruising fist in his hand.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He’s seething and Joonmyeon’s mouth falls open, his eyebrows knitted together in pure confusion.  
  
“What the fuck am I _doing_ here? Why the hell did you _punch_ me?”  
  
Chanyeol scoffs and rubs at his puffy eyes, his curly hair unbrushed and unwashed. There's a bag gripped tightly in his other hand. “What are you doing here Joonmyeon?” He asks again, his voice sad, the syllables breaking in the back of his throat.  
  
“I’m picking up Baek— What's going on?” He takes a step forward and Chanyeol backs up, his sneakers squeaking against the floorboards. The stinging in his right eye gets worse with every passing second.  
“You know exactly what's going on—Jesus! What is with you people? Do you lose a brain cell every time a 0 is added to the end of your bank balance?” Chanyeol pushes past Joonmyeon and he staggers backwards pathetically, hand still clutching at his aching face. “I wouldn't come here again if I were you.” And the door slams shut.  
  
Joonmyeon blinks, and steps towards the door. He considers knocking again, considers pinching himself, considers a lot of things. There's a murmur of voices behind the door, whispering, and Joonmyeon jumps when something glass shatters against a wall.    
  
“What did I do?” Joonmyeon whispers, knowing no one is listening.

 

*

 

He doesn't remember driving back home. He just remembers walking down to his car with tears burning in back of his eyes and now he's sitting in the parking lot of his condo’s complex, staring out the window in a daze.  
  
He’s not starting at anything in particular, the world passes by his eyes in slow motion. His gaze falls onto the flowers growing on the side of concrete, usually beautiful and blooming but now parched from the unusual lack of rain, the stems limp against the soil.  
  
He hits his fist against the steering wheel, then again and again and again until the pain on his knuckles is more severe than the pain of his eye, the pain of his heart clenching beneath his ribs.  
  
He slides out of the car and walks up to his floor, people sending him weird glances. He catches his reflection in a mirror and it doesn't it surprise him. His hair is standing up in all directions, his hands having pulled it from his combed place. His eye is swollen, he can barely see out of it, the dark blue color matching the blue of his sweater.  
  
He reaches his hand up and hisses as his fingers brush against it.  
  
The elevator ride up to his floor and quick and Joonmyeon types his password into his keypad, opening the door and throwing his shoes onto the rack.  
  
Kyungsoo is still there, wrapped up in a blanket on his couch, looking the same as he did when he left, eyes a bit puffier. Joonmyeon steps further into the the room and Kyungsoo grabs the remote on the table, muting it.  
  
“What happened?” Kyungsoo asks, reaching up to press his finger against his eye. Joonmyeon flinches and he pulls his hand back.  
  
“Your boyfriend happened.” He settles down into the cushions and Kyungsoo shuffles into the kitchen, opens the fridge and grabs a ice pack from the freezer. He sits back down beside him and hands it to him.  
  
“I don't think he's my boyfriend anymore.” Kyungsoo tells him, his voice quiet and Joonmyeon looks at him, startled.  
  
“What do you mean? What happened with you two?”  
  
Kyungsoo frowns, “He didn't tell you?”  
  
Joonmyeon fists clench at his sides, “No! No one is telling me anything, What the hell is going on?” His fists uncurl and buries his face into them, fingers threading through his bangs, the ice-pack falling onto his lap. “Kyungsoo, what did I do?”  
  
He doesn’t answer right away but Joonmyeon can feel him shifting in his place on the couch, the soft fabric of what he assumes is Chanyeol’s sweater brushing against the exposed skin of his forearm. He scratches his blunt nails down his forehead, tears clinging to his eyelashes.  
  
Kyungsoo pokes the side of his face gently and Joonmyeon turns his head to the side, peeking his eyes between his fingers. He’s holding his phone out to him. Confused, Joonmyeon grabs it out of his hands and leans back against the cushions.  
  
“I’m so sorry Joonmyeon,” Kyungsoo whispers, “I didn’t know.” And Joonmyeon promptly falls apart.  
  
There’s a photo open on Kyungsoo’s screen, a photo of him and Seohyun from a few months ago, before he even had met Baekhyun, walking together after a party. Their heads tilted towards each other as they whisper between them, their fingers brushing at their sides. It’s not the photo that bothers him though, it’s the text, written in big bold letters across the top that has him hurling the phone in his hand across the room, screen and case shattering against the wall.  
  
Actress Do Seohyun and Kim Joonmyeon, engaged.  
  
Joonmyeon leans forward, mouth agape, chest heaving as he hyperventilates. His hands curl over his knees and squeeze until his knuckles turn white, tears slipping down the side of his face. One of Kyungsoo’s arms slides across his back in a soothing pattern, his other hand coming to rest on top of one of Joonmyeon’s on his knee. He’s crouched down in front of him and he’s talking, Joonmyeon can see his mouth moving but he can’t hear what he’s saying, it’s all white noise.  
  
“Joonmyeon!” Kyungsoo’s hand cups around his chin, forcing his eyes on him, “Look at me.”  
  
He does and _God,_ does he feel like a piece of shit. Kyungsoo is sitting there, his own eyes wet with tears, drowning in a sweater that belonged to a boyfriend he most likely doesn’t have anymore, and Joonmyeon is _what?_ What is he doing? He exhales deeply, it comes out shaky and a few tears slide down his cheek.  
  
“I’m sorry about your phone.” He mumbles a few moments later, and Kyungsoo offers him a small smile. “I’m sorry for not staying when you came over this morning— Why did you let me leave in the first place?”  
  
Kyungsoo’s eyes flicker down to the floor. “I didn’t know where you were going, and I think a part of me wanted you to feel as bad as I did…” His fingers squeeze Joonmyeon’s thigh, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t of done that.”  
  
“What happened with you and Chanyeol?”  
  
Kyungsoo lets out a shaky breath, “He called me this morning, beyond angry, screaming in my ear about the article. He was so mad that I didn’t tell him, that I let you go out with Baekhyun  while you were with someone else.” He rubs hand through his bangs, “He didn’t even let me explain anything.”  
  
“It’s my fault.” Joonmyeon states and Kyungsoo shakes his head. “It _is_ Kyungsoo,I should have just agreed to marry Seohyun when the matter was first brought up, but I was selfish and irresponsible and now I’ve ruined so many things.”  
  
“You’re not selfish Joonmyeon. You’re allowed to want things.” He rubs his thumb across his knee. “Why don’t you just go down to dispatch and talk with the reporters?”  
  
Joonmyeon shakes his head, laughing. “You think they’ll believe me? My father wouldn’t have sent this news out if he knew if could be undone by a simple chat.” He sighs, “He knows I wouldn’t do that to Seohyun anyway, I know I say I’m not responsible for her but I feel like I am, we were suppose to be married almost four years ago. If I had just done it then she probably wouldn’t be so wild now.”  
  
Kyungsoo pinches his knee and Joonmyeon glares at him, “You’re not responsible for her ‘Myeon, no one is. Hell, if anyone is it's me, she’s _my_ sister. And don’t blame yourself for her poor decisions, she would have ended up like this anyway— it’s an after-effect of child acting and neglect.”  
  
Joonmyeon laughs and Kyungsoo smiles sadly. “What are you going to do?”  
  
The question lingers for a moment and Joonmyeon feels the weight of it against his shoulders. What _is_ there to do? Baekhyun won’t talk to him and Chanyeol would most likely kill him if ever as so much steps onto the property again. Everything around him is crumbling, a modern day Midas where instead of gold, his veins are lined with dust and everything he touches scatters in the wind around him.

 

*****

 

His life turns into a game of Jenga. Fingers pluck at the pieces piled high, pick and choose which ones to remove and wait patiently for him to collapse.  
  
Kyungsoo hadn’t left that night, or the night after that, even though he only lived right down the hall. His fingers threaded through Joonmyeon’s hair when he read the text message that Baekhyun had sent him earlier that day, the one that Joonmyeon had mistaken for a: I’m home now!  
  
Joonmyeon remembered that way the Baekhyun had almost clawed Jongdae’s eyes out of his skull just at the comment of him going bald and his wonders how many things he’d broken in their apartment when he was typing it out. It was several scrolls long, mostly swearing and lines after lines of him saying how much he hates him, other times asking why, why did he do it? Why didn’t he tell him? Why, why, _why.  
  
_ He sends text after text back, each one longer than the last, but none of them get delivered.  
  
The photos of the two of them start disappearing off the internet one by one, articles are taken down and even though his father never once says anything he knows its because of him. The remaining photos floating off are written off as someone else, and most people believe it, seeing as they’re both wearing different clothes in the one of them kissing than the one of them outside the restaurant.  
  
Seohyun comes back a few days later wearing a large engagement ring on her finger and several bags in her hand.  
  
“Hello darling,” She calls out, bags falling to the floor with a thud. Joonmyeon blows his piece of gum into a bubble. “What are you doing here?” She asks, her eyes falls onto Kyungsoo sitting next to him, her index finger pulling the sunglasses over his down her nose.  
  
“What are _you_ doing here?” Kyungsoo asks back.  
  
“What does it look like? I’m moving in with my _fiancee_.”  
  
The bubble pops across Joonmyeon’s face.

 

*****

 

The days sans Baekhyun blend together into a grey mush in his mind. Seohyun comes in and changes everything about his life, taking every piece of Baekhyun he had left and tearing it to pieces before his eyes. It was odd, how different she had become in the last few weeks, walking in and acting like Joonmyeon’s life was the one that was messed up and she was there to fix it, instead of the other way around.  
  
The bed is the first thing to go and it breaks Joonmyeon’s heart into pieces. He never really understood why Baekhyun had kept so many unnecessary things stuffed in his backpack, but as the moving guys pulled the frame apart, he does. It’s probably not healthy to cling to possessions as if they hold the memories beneath their wrappers or boxes, hoarding them like you can’t breathe if one goes missing but Joonmyeon would be lying if he said he didn’t think of how beautiful Baekhyun looked spread out across his sheets every time he walked into his room.  
  
After the bed it's small things, the curtains, the lamps on the night-side table, even the dishes in his cabinet.  
  
He wonders what Baekhyun is doing, if he's okay, if he's staying out of trouble. Every once in awhile he finds himself scrolling through the police website designated to Baekhyun’s neighborhood, eyes scanning the recent arrests list for petty theft. Chanyeol had told him that he’d call if Baekhyun ever got into any serious trouble again  but he knows for a fact now that it’s never going to come.  
  
It’s almost been a month since the last time he’s seen him, less if you count the time he saw the back of his head at a grocery store. Joonmyeon does.  
  
Kyungsoo drops by every so often, his old persona slipping back as he falls into working with his father again, the lounge no longer under Kyungsoo’s own name but his father’s. He didn’t mention anything about selling it but Joonmyeon understands, memories insulate the walls there. Joonmyeon himself can’t even walk by it without a feeling of guilt washing over him. He can’t imagine how it feels for Kyungsoo.

 

*****

 

Joonmyeon sits on the floor of his closet, a pile of clothes the same size of him sitting opposite of him. The hangers above him are all empty, same as the racks beneath Seohyun had been invited to a fashion show by one of her designer friends and while she didn’t ask, Joonmyeon knows he’s going to be roped into going. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s gone out like he used to, dressed in a fitted tux, each piece of clothing more expensive than the last.  
  
None of the clothes in front of him appeal to him though. He slides his hands down the sleeves of the jackets, feeling the soft fabric between his fingers and tosses them to the side. He doesn’t understand. He balls the shirt in his hand into a wrinkly mess and tosses it against the closet door and cries out in frustration.  
  
These things use to mean everything to him. He couldn’t wait for the next party, the next ball, the next excuse to go shopping. Nothing excites him anymore.  
  
There’s a knock on the door and Joonmyeon looks up as Seohyun walks in, already dressed.  
  
“What is it?” Joonmyeon asks, beyond exhausted.  
  
Seohyun’s eyebrows knit together for a second, her eyes narrowing slightly, before her face softens again. She steps further into the closet, the door closing behind her. “You need to stop sulking Joonmyeon, it’s getting a bit pathetic don’t you think?”  
  
“I can’t just _stop_ , what do you expect me to do? Turn it off? I’m not a goddamn machine Seohyun, I don’t have the luxury of deciding when I get to feel something or not.”  
  
“So what? Feel all you want, but keep it inside, you’re being childish by acting this way.” She bends down in front him, her knees cracking quietly. “I’m trying to get my life together Joonmyeon, I can’t do that without you.”  
  
They both know that’s not true and Joonmyeon can feel the bitterness of the words against his tongue even though he didn’t say them. She’s right about needing to get her life together, her image is tainted in the public eye; constant partying and hookups, no one even wants to typecast her anymore. But she doesn’t need _him_ , she could settle down with anyone. Joonmyeon’s just convenient, and his father needs the money.  
  
He knows that she believes it though, that keeping it inside will help, and he wonders if that's what she’s doing right now, dawning her mother’s pearls and a pair of sunglasses to hide the fact that all she wants to do is run.  
  
“You don’t _get_ it.” He tells her and so desperately wants her to, wants her to understand what it’s doing to him, his hand spreads over his chest, rubbing over where his heart rests hoping maybe it might alleviate some of the pain. “I feel like i'm drowning.”  
  
It’s not as an accurate description as he hoped but it’s the only feeling he can think of that even closely resembles how he feels in the morning every time he opens his eyes.  
  
She reaches up and pinches Joonmyeon’s chin between her manicured nails. “I _do_ get it Joonmyeon, you loved him, love him, whatever the tense, but I’m sorry to disappoint you. We don’t have the luxury of that either.”  
  
“The luxury of what? _Love?_ This isn’t the 1700s. We’re not that high of class.”  
  
She sighs, “You know what I mean Joonmyeon, we have responsibilities to our families, to ourselves. Ones that we can't just ignore because we met someone.”

 

*****

 

She helps him pick something to wear after. A dark shirt to match her dress and a pair of black pants and shoes. Everything new. Her nails tap against the watch on his wrist and she pulls him from the closest, pushing him slightly towards where his jacket is hanging on the back of his desk chair.  
  
“I’ll be downstairs, _hurry_.” Her heels click against the floor and he listens to the sound all the way down the hallway.  
  
He shuffles over to his desk and grabs his jacket from where it's hanging, freshly dry cleaned and pressed. The curtains are open and bright lights from the streetlights have him squinting and he steps forward to throw them shut, something flapping in the corner of his eye. He drops his hand from the curtain and turns towards his piano, still nestled into the corner, untouched since Baekhyun. There’s something sticking on top of the keys — _a sticky note_ , struggling against the air blowing from the vent beneath it.  
  
His breath catches in his throat and he yanks it off the piano, recognizing Baekhyun’s handwriting immediately.  
  
_I put the date of Chanyeol’s gig in your phone!!  
__don’t forget myeonnie :-)  
  
_ He doesn’t know how long that’s been there. Seohyun had changed a lot in his condo but for some reason this corner of the room was never touched, not even by the moving people. The note crunches into a ball beneath his fists and he tosses it onto the floor, pulling his phone from his pocket and opening the calendar app. There’s a small grey circle on today’s date. He scrolls down and his lips press into a thin line. The gig is today. It started 10 minutes ago.  
  
He could go. He could run out of  this room and through the door, he could leave Seohyun there as he runs down the building’s several flights of stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator. He could go right now and run to the club where Chanyeol’s band is playing and apologize, he could go see Baekhyun sing and he tell him how sorry he is.  
  
“Joonmyeon!”  
  
He doesn’t.

 

*****

 

The grip Seohyun has on his thigh feels like a vice, her long nails digging through the fabric of his pants and poking his skin. Her arm shakes slightly and Joonmyeon reaches up and wraps his hand around her wrist, pulling it off. The car is quiet besides the two of them breathing, the window between the driver and passengers shut tight.  
  
The traffic speeds by them and Joonmyeon rests his forehead against the cool glass, watching both of their reflections. Her fingers twist around her engagement ring, spinning it around her finger. A police car passes them on the other side.  
  
Their car comes to halt and Joonmyeon lurches forward slightly, the bright flash of cameras blinding him even through the windows. Seohyun grabs his hand this time, her grip still iron tight around him, he can feel the circulation being cut off.  
  
The door opens and she pulls him out into the crowd, her award-winning smile plastered onto her face, sunglasses still over her eyes. The cameras continue to flash quickly and everything around them is swallowed in a sea of white and a storm of voices. Joonmyeon smiles though, his cheeks starting to ache from the force of it.  
  
“That’s always fun,” Seohyun says after the doors to the building have been shut and all the noises from outside are silenced.  
  
Joonmyeon shakes his head, laughing. “That’s one word for it.”  
  
She pinches the sleeve of his shirt that’s hanging out of the bottom of his jacket and yanks him forward, wrapping her hand around his elbow. He feels the heat of her palm through the layers and it stands out against the chill of his own skin.  The ring on her finger cutting into him like a knife.  
  
The venue is almost completely packed when they both get inside, Seohyun having stopped them several times in the hall to mingle with some of her old acting friends and colleagues, each smile and ‘I’ve missed you, we should really keep in touch” more fake than the last. He’s already sweating by the time that they take their seats in the front row, Seohyun's hand falling from his elbow to rest just above his knee. Joonmyeon glances at it, then to her; her eyebrows raising in a silent challenge. He shakes his head and grabs a flute of champagne off one of the servers walking by, swallowing it all in one sip.  
  
He glances down again, this time at his watch and Seohyun kicks him gently.  
  
“What are you doing?” She hisses quietly and Joonmyeon just waves his watch in front of her face.  
  
“I was just checking the time.”  
  
She narrows her eyes at him but doesn’t say anything.  
  
It’s not until 10 minutes later that the show starts, a white screen rolling down at the back, a short film projected onto it. The room falls silent as it plays, and Joonmyeon gets lost in the middle of it, the scenes playing out more like a fragrance advertisement than a concept film and it’s not until the words “un amour perdu” fade onto the screen that Joonmyeon understands, his hands freezing mid-clap.  
  
The models come out then dawning dark red fabrics and glittered tears running down their faces, he expects Seohyun to gasps, hands clasped together, delighted, but she doesn’t move. He glances over at her and she’s not even staring at the models walking past them, her eyes fixed on something on the other side of the runway. Joonmyeon tilts his body to the side, and tries to follow her line of sight, only to see a man sitting exactly opposite of her, eyes flickering to her very spot before returning to the girl next to him.  
  
He doesn’t look familiar but Seohyun had so many men around the past few years it was impossible to remember them all.  
  
Joonmyeon’s phone buzzes in his jacket and he slides his hand into his pocket, pulls it out slightly and squints as he tries to read the name at the top of his screen. It’s Baekhyun. His phone clatters to the ground and Joonmyeon reaches down and grabs it, the music playing through the speakers swallows the sound but the bright light from his screen has a few people sending him dirty looks.  
  
Seohyun's hand falls from his legs as he jumps off the chair, weaving himself through the rows and rows of people. His phone continues to buzz in his hand and Baekhyun’s name flashes on his screen, his thumb hovers over the accept button, and he clicks on it just as he’s pushing open the back door of the venue, leading him into an alley.  
  
“Hello?” Joonmyeon asks, his voice shaking, “Baekhyun?”  
  
“Joonmyeon, Jesus— _Fuck!”_ It’s not Baekhyun. It’s Chanyeol. Joonmyeon’s heart drops into his stomach. “I’m still so fucking pissed at you and I can’t guarantee I won’t punch you again when I see you but, _shit_ , Baekhyun got himself into some trouble, there was a fight at the bar— I tried to stop him but—”  
  
Joonmyeon’s hands shake around his phone and he feels sweat start accumulate at the back of his neck, drip down his spine.  
  
“I’m coming, okay? I’ll be right there.”

 

*****

 

Joonmyeon’s foot lands into a small puddle as he runs down the busy sidewalks, the water splashes up against his leg and soaks the bottom of his pants. Rain pours down from the sky heavily and Joonmyeon didn’t even know when it had started, one second he was running and the sky was clear save for a few dark clouds and then he’s drenched, his hair sticking down against his ears.  
  
His hands grab onto people’s shoulders and push them slightly, a quiet ‘sorry’ mumbled through his lips each time. He didn’t have time to catch a cab, wasn’t even thinking about it, his mind was just a conscious stream of: Baekhyun, Baekhyun, _Baekhyun.  
  
_ Rain drops collect on his lashes he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes to clear his vision. Baekhyun had written the address to the bar in the reminder on his calendar, it shouldn’t be too far now.  
  
His feet slide against the wet concrete, and he reaches out, grabbing hold of the corner of a building as he skids around the corner. The rough jagged texture of the brick cuts across his palm and he hisses at the pain, curling his hand into a fist. The mixture of blood and rain water runs down his wrist and onto the sidewalk.  
  
The rain still continues to pour even as he stands there, gripping his fists in his hand, staring at the crowd of people standing outside the bar, his eyes eyes zone in on Baekhyun right away, sitting beside the door with an ice-pack on his cheek and a bandage under his eyes. There’s a police car parked off to the side and he can see the two officers inside the bar, talking to who he assumes is the owner.  
  
Baekhyun’s soaked to the bone, clothes sticking to his skin, his previously orange hair is now dyed black and it must be new, the dye runs down the side of his face mixing with the blood from his cuts. He looks beautiful.  
  
He steps forward, Baekhyun still hasn’t seen him yet, and something yellow catches his eye in the window to his left. Joonmyeon pushes past the remaining people and opens the door to the bar. There’s a few people still inside, a few workers and remaining customers, and none of them look over as he crouches down beside one of the tables and pulls Baekhyun’s bag out from under the booth.  
  
There’s a gaping hole at the top separating the zipper from the fabric as if someone had tried to rip it off Baekhyun's back while he was wearing it. Fuming, he reaches down and yanks it closer to him, his injured hand still a fist at his side. There’s a small paper bag at the top of the pocket, it's worn and thinning, a small tear in the corner where it must have caught onto the wire poking through the fabric. Joonmyeon runs his thumb across it, Baekhyun must have pulled it out a lot.  
  
He looks back, can see Baekhyun through the other window, eyes closed as he leans his head back. He notices Jongdae sitting beside him, looking just as worse as Baekhyun. He cranes his neck around the wood pillar blocking his way, trying to see if there’s anyone else and he sees Chanyeol there too, holding an ice-pack to a bruise on his cheekbone.  
  
He glances back down at the bag and peels the paper open, wondering what Baekhyun took out to look at so often. He falls from his crouch to sitting, his legs giving out under him. The first thing he sees is a plastic bag sticking out, a dead, crumbling tulip stuffed inside. He blinks, rain still sticks to his lashes but he’s sure there are some tears there too. Joonmyeon had bought him tulips once, bought a whole bouquet for him from the shop he worked at.  
  
He remembers seeing Baekhyun behind the counter, cutting the tips off a bunch of roses and how the first thing he thought of when he saw him was how he put every flower in the store to shame. Baekhyun had grinned at him when he noticed him and Joonmyeon had walked through the shop, fingers rubbing against the petals, looking up at Baekhyun every few seconds then looking away when their eyes met.  
  
He places the plastic back into the bag gingerly, careful of the crumbling petals. He knows it’s not a flower from the bouquet that he had gotten him, but it doesn’t stop him from pretending that Baekhyun cared enough to keep it. Joonmyeon sticks his hand into the bag again then pulls it out just as quickly, something poking him in the finger.  
  
There’s a spot of blood on his index finger and he pops it into his mouth, carefully pulling the pointy offender from the bag.  
  
Joonmyeon almost doesn’t recognize it but it’s one of the anime pins from Heechul's bag. It has to be a coincidence. He shoves his hand back in again pulling out a spoon with a spiral pattern etched onto the handle, a handful of movie stubs each from a movie that Joonmyeon had taken him to, a take-out place’s logo cut out from a plastic bag and a label from a wine bottle.  
  
Joonmyeon’s mouth falls open and he has to slap one of his hands over his mouth to keep from gasping out loud.  
  
There’s something else at the bottom, crumpled up into a ball. He pulls it out and carefully unwraps it, noticing that it’s been taped several times. It’s the picture of them kissing in the booth at the chicken shop. Joonmyeon’s hand falls from his mouth and he feels tears burning at the back of his eyes, his finger tracing the tear right down the middle of the paper.  
  
He scrubs at his eyes and squishes the photo back into a ball, placing it back in the bag. He zips the pocket back up as best he can, most of the items still visible through the hole on the top. He pulls the strap onto his shoulder and slips back out onto the street before the police officer by the bar can ask him what he’s doing.  
  
He slides the bag off his shoulder and tosses it onto the ground at Baekhyun’s feet, rain still pouring down harshly. He catches his own eye in the reflection in the window behind Baekhyun and he looks like every man in every drama he’s ever seen making their confessions, except he’s already had the person he’s confessing too. He just lost them.  
  
Baekhyun’s eyes fly open and watching the range of emotions that take over his face is amusing until he’s on his feet and punching him right in the jaw.  
  
Joonmyeon staggers backwards and Baekhyun’s hands are both curled into fists at his sides. His ice-pack is melting on the sidewalk and Chanyeol isn’t anywhere to be seen. Jongdae is still sitting there though, his eyes closed. One of Baekhyun’s hands curl into the lapel of his jacket and he hauls Joonmyeon into the alley beside the bar, pushing him as far as he can when they get there.  
  
He’s seething, teeth bared, blood clinging to his cheeks and running down his arms.  
  
He steps forward and Joonmyeon doesn’t move back, let’s him get closer. Baekhyun hits him again, this time in the chest, his nails catching on the fabric of his shirt. He hits him again and again and again until his fists just rest against Joonmyeon’s chest, his shoulders shaking, arms exhausted.  
  
“What are you doing here?” He asks wearily and it breaks Joonmyeon’s heart all over again. “Wait, don’t answer that— I don’t care. Just leave. _Please_.” He steps away and Joonmyeon grabs his wrist before he can slip away.  
  
“I’m not going to leave, you need to listen to me.” He pulls him closer and Baekhyun struggles against his grip, trying to put more space between them. “Baekhyun, _please_.”  
  
“I don’t want to listen you.” Baekhyun tells him, his face all squished up. “You’re a fucking asshole, you’re a fucking lying asshole and I hate you.”  
  
“You can hate me all you want but don’t call me a liar, I never lied to you Baekhyun. I would never lie to you.”  
  
Baekhyun scoffs, “You never lied to me? You lied to me the whole time we were together! I’m so tired of it Joonmyeon, of being the fool, of people thinking i’m some stupid boy they can do whatever they want with before going back to their lives, their _real_ ones, the ones that don’t involve me.” He presses the heel of his free palm into his eyes, “I have feelings y’know.”  
  
Joonmyeon loosens his grip around Baekhyun's wrist, and he suddenly remembers what Chanyeol had told him about Yixing.  
  
“You weren’t just something to pass the time by with Baekhyun, I cared about you— I _care_ about, now, present tense. I fucking—” He rubs a hand down his face, wiping the water away, “I love you Baekhyun, and I know you hate me but I needed to tell you that and you also need to know that I wasn’t with Seohyun when we were together, I wasn’t cheating on you or cheating on her or— _shit_ , just, I need you to know that my father put that story out without my knowledge.”  
  
He drops Baekhyun’s arm completely and he expects him to it him again or run back to where he was sitting but he stares up at him wide-eyed. “What?”  
  
“My father’s wanted me to be with Seohyun since we were kids, she needed the good publicity and my father needs to money i’ll get from her family. I didn’t know they would do it without telling me, I’m s—”  
  
“No, not that. Did you just say you _love_ me?”  
  
Joonmyeon cocks his head to the side, “I don't th— did I?” He shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter how I feel, I just want you to know that I’m sorry and I had no intentions of hurting you.”  
  
“Yes it does Joonmyeon, it matters. It matters a lot actually.” He crosses his arms across his chest, then let’s them fall back down to his sides. “You don’t have to apologize though, If what you’re saying is true then, then… I’m really the only one at fault here.”  
  
Joonmyeon opens his mouth to protest but Baekhyun covers it with one of his hands, “I _am_ Joonmyeon, if you weren’t seeing her behind my back or seeing me behind _hers_ then you did nothing wrong, and all this happened because I shut you out.”  
  
Joonmyeon slides his hand up Baekhyun’s arm and rests his thumb against the dip in his collarbone, rubbing gently against the skin there.  
  
“I don’t blame you,” Joonmyeon tells him, pressing his forehead against Baekhyun’s, careful of the cuts on his skin.  
  
“You should,” Baekhyun says, voice breaking, eyes wet with tears and rain. “You should blame me, _I_ blame me. I’m sorry for doing that to you. I’m sorry for shutting you out. I’m sorry for punching you, I’m so so sorry.  
  
Joonmyeon leans in and presses his lips against Baekhyun’s own, his next apology dying in his throat. He grins when Baekhyun pulls him closer by a hand on his waist and it feels too much like coming home, like he’s been left out at sea and he’s finally able to touch solid land again. He smells like rain-water and mud and his lips are cold to the touch, but Joonmyeon still kisses him like it’s the only way he can breathe again.  
  
Baekhyun flinches back a few seconds later and Joonmyeon reaches up to swipe the blood from the cut on his lip away.  
  
“How’d this happen anyway?” His eyes flicker to the ground and he mumbles something under his breath, Joonmyeon tilts his head back up with a thumb under his chin. “What was that?”  
  
“Someone said something about you and I got pissed off so I punched him in the face,” He doesn’t meet Joonmyeon’s eyes, “He fought back obviously, and then Chanyeol and Jongdae got involved and it just went south.”  
  
Joonmyeon frowns, his hand running through the back of Baekhyun’s hair, “Why do anything? I thought you hated me?”  
  
“I just kissed you Joonmyeon, why would I do that if I hated you?”  
  
He hums in response, his other hand caressing his forehead, pushing his bangs up against the stream of rain falling down on them. “I guess.” He laughs quietly and Baekhyun pinches his cheeks between his fingers.  
  
“I don’t hate you Joonmyeon.” He kisses him again, close-mouthed, on the corner of his lips.  
  
“Are you even allowed to back here, aren’t you getting arrested?” He asks when he pulls back and Baekhyun’s the one to laugh this time.  
  
“He didn’t press any charges, well at least not against us.” He turns back to look at the mouth of the alley, “The other guys broke some of his property so they’re probably gonna be taken back to the station after the officer’s are done getting some witness reports.”  
  
“Ah, Why did Chanyeol call me then?” His eyebrows knit together, “He said you were in trouble.”  
  
Baekhyun frowns, “Chanyeol called you?”  
  
Joonmyeon nods, he grimaces at the feeling of his clothes sticking to his skin as Baekhyun pulls him out of the alley and back onto the street where the crowd has started to disperse. Only a few people remain outside the bar, including Jongdae, Chanyeol and —  
  
Joonmyeon stops in his tracks. “Kyungsoo?”  
  
The man in question looks up from where he’s talking to Chanyeol, glasses perched on his nose and an umbrella clasped in his hand, the other one holds a cloth to a bleeding cut on Chanyeol’s chin. Joonmyeon looks between them, eyes darting back and forth, and his head begins to hurt.  
  
Kyungsoo glances down at where Baekhyun’s hand is wrapped around Joonmyeon and he nudges Chanyeol with his shoulder, pointing over to where they’re standing. Chanyeol’s expression goes from confused to excited in mere milliseconds and it would’ve made Joonmyeon laugh if he wasn’t so confused.  
  
“Why did you call him?” Baekhyun asks, “You knew how mad I was at him.”  
  
Joonmyeon’s stomach sinks and his teeth bite into the skin of his cheek, Baekhyun squeezes his hand.  
  
“I was mad at him too Baekhyun, but Kyungsoo ended up calling me and he said we needed to talk and I was so pissed so I was just gonna go to tell him that I never wanted to see him again but I ended up staying and he explained what happened.” His eyes flicker over to Joonmyeon, “Sorry for punching you, I kinda got too over-protective.”  
  
“Why didn’t you just tell me yourself? Why call him here?”  
  
“You wouldn’t of listened to me, any mention of Joonmyeon’s name had you either bursting out into tears or attacking someone.”  
  
Baekhyun glares at him and Joonmyeon can’t whether the red on his cheeks is from the cold or embarrassment.  
  
“You’re good though, right? The two of you?” It’s Kyungsoo who speaks this time and Joonmyeon nods.  
  
“I think so.” He tells him, glancing over at Baekhyun. “I hope so.”

 

*****

 

It’s not until a while later that Kyungsoo says goodbye with both Chanyeol and Jongdae in tow, leaving Joonmyeon and Baekhyun sitting on a bench not too far from the bar, the reminiscence of the rain storm dripping off the gutters of the buildings in front of them. Baekhyun’s head is resting on Joonmyeon’s shoulder and his fingers trace the lines of his hand.  
  
Baekhyun’s bag rests at their feet, still soaking wet.  
  
“What are we going to do?” Baekhyun asks and Joonmyeon feels the weight of the question on weighing down on his heart.  
  
“I don’t know, I don’t know how to get out of this.” Joonmyeon answers.  
  
“I’ll wait for you y’know,” Baekhyun says and Joonmyeon turns to him, one leg tucked under the other. “I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to get out of it and then we can start over.” He holds his hand out between them, “We can start right now actually.”  
  
He coughs and shakes his shoulders slightly, getting into character. “Hi, my name is Byun Baekhyun. I’m sorry I stole your car." 

**Author's Note:**

> omg you made it all the way here? thank you so much! i am planning on making a sequel to this so if you're interested once reveals go up then you'll know where to find me.


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